Reval Keshan
by Fizzy Walrus
Summary: 21 year old Link has just returned from Termina, only to find his world slowly being consumed by a malevolent deity opposing the Goddesses.  Can he and other survivors defend against a deity who defies the Goddesses, who destroys entire worlds?
1. I: The Long Road Home

R&R!

The Long Road Home

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Ah, the forest. No matter where he had traveled (and he had come far), Link always found forests vibrant and comforting, full of the life he had worked so hard to protect. Everything there had a place in the grand scheme of the forest and was content; no scrabbling for money to buy that new dress, or that fancy suit; no clashes of wills and words with stuck up aristocrats assured of their own supremacy through wealth; no complicated nuances of society, no conforming to popular views, no lies, no backstabbing.

Link often envied them, the denizens of these wooded havens, often wished he could run free as a deer or even a Wolfo. For them life was simple: eat to stay alive, then avoid being eaten. They felt no desire to gorge themselves on more than necessary, no need to drown in mead or wine. He envied them, coveted their innocence.

He had lost his innocence long ago, forced to wake up a child in the body of a man to save Hyrule, a stranger in himself. He had seen and felt things no man, women or child should ever have to experience—spitting Lizafos on the Master Sword, feeling the blood of countless monsters slain in the name of peace stick to his skin and soak his clothes, watching fellow men die in the street trying in vain to save their families. He saw the people he once knew—his friends—saw them guant and starving or as bloodied corpses left in Ganondorf's brutal wake. Even after returning to childhood a forgotten hero he could not regain his innocence sacrificed for his fellow men and women.

Blinking eyes the color of bottomless untamed seas, he pulled his mind from the rambling melancholic track it had pursued. One of the great virtues and vices of solitary traveling is the time to let the mind pursue its own ends. It could relieve the often-present boredom and philosophize but it could also leave the mind saturated with dark ruminations like an apple simmering in a vat of acid.

He cast his thoughts once again to the leafy halls he now rode through. This was the verges of Kokiri Forest, his home both past and present. It was said that Hylians lost amid the seemingly endless sea of trees would eventually die and be reborn as a Stalfos to prey upon unsuspecting travelers. Myth or no, he saw none of the skeletal fiends here; this was a relatively safe place, the densely packed forests of Termina behind him and the magical forest of the Kokiri in front. He had grown up here, an unknowing Hylian orphan hidden from the Great War by his mortally wounded mother and entrusted to the Great Deku Tree with her dying gasps. The Kokiri village, his childhood home, was unfortunately not on his route. He could detour, but did not feel up to facing the awkwardness of being the tallest in the village of eternal children by at least three feet.

His home now was a modest wooden house nestled out of the way on the edge of the forest facing Hyrule field. Closer to Lake Hylia to the south than Kakariko Village to the northeast, its location had been a message to Princess Zelda, the only one apart from him and the sages who remembered his fight in the other time: _Leave me alone. I am not your workhorse anymore._ Link still chafed at the memories of Zelda drawing him, a naïve little forest boy, into the journey and battle for Hyrule.

Link cast his gaze around him, in search of the familiar landmarks to guide him home. Though he had lived all his life—outside of adventuring—in the forest, he was still amazed and humbled by its splendor. It had rained the night before, a cleansing downpour that left the forest today awash in the crisp clarity of sight and smell that always seemed to follow rainstorms. Beads of dew clearer than the finest glass money could buy adorned every green blade of grass and vibrant leaf. They sparkled in the sunlight filtering in shifting beams through the leafy canopy above, billions of stars strewn across a shifting emerald sky.

Upholding the lofty living canopy overhead were trees, thousands, millions of them, from immense columns six paces wide to petite poles thinner than his wrist. They watched him as he rode slowly past, solemn yet benevolent sentinels with bark wrinkled with age or stretched tight with youth, eyes made of knots in the bark, flowing beards made of smooth drapes of moss. _Perhaps they all are alive_, Link thought, _like the Great Deku Tree's sprout._ The forest's inhabitants, shy as ever, stared timidly at him from behind trees or through the leafy foliage along the ground. Overhead birds flitted from branch to branch twittering their songs or searching for food revealed in last night's rainfall. He knew that they all must be staring at him; after all, this section of land didn't receive many visitors.

And an odd sight he must present to these sheltered creatures. It was doubtful that they had ever seen a horse; upon Epona, his faithful chestnut mare, he must have seemed half man and half horse, rather like the centaurs of legend. He had the pale skin and long pointed ears of a Hylian—the latter pierced with twin silver rings—and long blond hair that he kept tucked into his trademark green cap. Mido, a childhood bully, had taunted him about his hair; supposedly when he grew it out from behind he was identical to Ellen, a creepy recluse whose hair was the same shade. Link wore in his travels today what he nearly always wore—a green tunic over a white shirt, simple breeches, leather guantlets, and tough leather boots.

On his back hung the sheathed custom blade he had purchased from the forgery in Termina, which he personally felt rivaled the best the Royal Family could find in Castle Town. Clipped to the sheathe hung his battered and scratched Hylian shield, which had accompanied him throughout his many travels, quite a few of which had ended with pitched battles against some malevolent creature or other. Clipped to his belt or on several space-bending pouches sprinkled over his person were enough weapons to arm a small army, all of which he had found or purchased in his travels. Daggers, a boomerang, a strange device with a hook, chain, and spring-loaded trigger called a hookshot, a large battle hammer, and many more outlandish weapons all resided in their own pouches. These pouches, however, were special, perhaps more so than the weapons themselves; they warped space in such a way that a three-foot-long hammer could fit into a three-by-five inch sack of leather while only weighing a fraction of its normal weight. Reduced weight or no, he still weighed quite a lot with his full armament on his person. Thankfully he had developed a strength disproportionate to his average height over his travels, though he was all lean, sinewy muscle.

As he proceeded further into the forest, Epona's grass-muffled hoofbeats striking a tempo for his thoughts, he could not shake a strange, ominous feeling that something was wrong, along with a sense of déjà vu. The latter was understandable—he had traveled this route often—but magnified, and the reason for both lurked at the edges of his mind like phantoms half glimpsed in the murky depths of midnight fog.

These feelings hounded him throughout the long day until he finally made camp at dark and retired to his blankets, too unnerved by his instinct to disarm himself, and thus leaving his sword under his hand. If he hurried, he would reach his home at noon tomorrow. As his eyes shut and his mind drifted into sleep he had no idea of the true danger his beloved land had become embroiled in.

----------

Those same eyes snapped open again during the night. Link didn't know what had awakened him, but long experience had told him to trust his instincts and now they were calling for caution. Reaching into remains of the fire, he laid one gauntleted palm gingerly on the coals, then with more pressure. No heat; he had been asleep for a few hours, at least.

He threw off the blanket and sat up. Patting himself down, he assured himself that he had not been robbed. His sword was still beneath his palm, and Epona stood nearby, eying him with still-sleepy eyes. Now kneeling, he rolled up his bedding and lashed it to the saddle while surreptitiously running a careful gaze over his surroundings. Nothing moved in the darkness; there was no wind to stir the trees and ruffle the leaves, no wildlife to make any sounds at all.

That wasn't good.

_Something_ was here, something was lurking perhaps behind a tree or in a bush, something not native to the forest. Even at night there should be movement, life in the forest. But now? Nothing. Some creature was scaring the nocturnal life into quiet submission.

Saddling Epona, he turned to pick up anything he may have left behind—and there it was.

It stood four feet tall at the shoulder, covered in matted, grimy fur reminiscent of a rabid dog. It crouched on all fours, long hooked claws prominent on paws like a cougar's. Shredded ears like that of a cat and an ugly, squashed snout over a snarling mouth filled with teeth like razors adorned it's lowered head, while its body was covered in lean muscle like that of a fine greyhound, only larger. It reminded Link vaguely of a rabid Wolfo, yet more muscular and slightly more feline.

He felt Epona stiffen. Link's sword hand slowly—very slowly—reached for the hilt of his sword, which he had erroneously sheathed to put on Epona's saddle. Just as his middle finger felt the corded hilt the beast inhaled mightily, pointed its entire body at Link, and began to howl.

For a second it wasn't too bad, sounding much like an amplified wolf, but almost instantaneously the howl grew louder and higher into a deafening unearthly shriek. Clapping both hands to his ears, he tried to cry out in pain but couldn't hear himself over the deafening wall of noise. He was suddenly dizzy; Link staggered, still holding his ears in agony—and then it stopped, and all he could hear was a ringing in his ears much like after an explosion inches from your ear. Still off balance, he opened his eyes in time to see the beast mid-pounce.

There was no time to arm himself. Link instinctively shielded his face with one arm and felt the claws rake across the leather and scratch his skin. Staggering back, he knew that falling down beneath it would mean the end of the proclaimed Hero of Time. He twisted away from the creature while simultaneously shoving with one arm and driving his other fist into its side, altering its flight path just enough to avoid being eviscerated by its deadly claws. It landed awkwardly, clearly shocked by it's would-be prey's reactions, and tripped over a protruding tree root.

Flipping back and away from the temporarily distracted creature Link had just enough time to draw his sword and shield before it pounced again. However, this time he was ready. Instead of just defending with his shield he drove it forward, putting his superior weight into the forward lunge. The creature was obviously used to proceeding through sheer tenacity and brawn if its prey-stunning howl failed and was unaccustomed to its prey fighting instead of fleeing. It slammed full-on into his shield with a wet crunch and fell dazedly to the ground. Link took the advantage at face value and swung his blade, taking off its head in a crimson fountain. He hopped back out of the way of its bloody spray and warily watched it twitch until its heart stopped.

Stepping forward again, he took the moment to study this new adversary. In the sparse moonlight its blood seemed black, a dead beast lying in a pool of liquid tar. "Well," he muttered to himself, "I guess that wasn't too bad." Then he saw the rest of them.

There had to be at least ten, all standing mutely about fifteen feet away. He could hear the distant cries of more, apparently drawn by the scent of blood.

They all tensed like cats about to pounce on a lone, helpless mouse.

"Oh, shit."

Then they roared as one and moved for the kill.

Link leapt to the side, avoiding being gored by a hair's breadth, then brought his sword down vertically, slamming a creature to the ground mid-pounce. A crimson spurt turned black in the moonlight sprayed his green tunic—_dammit!_ Mentally berating himself for his split second of foolish vanity he swiveled and met fearsome jaws with his shield. The impact caused him to slip in the newly created blood pool and stumble, the beast's jaws still locked around the edge of his shield. Its claws scratched for purchase on its steel surface as he lifted it into the air, exposing its stomach beneath the edge of his shield. He slashed horizontally, cutting it in half; blood and entrails dumped to the ground as the top half still clung to his shield doggedly in death before Link managed to shake it off.

Behind him he heard Epona whinny. Turning quickly, he saw her rear into the air and bring her front hooves down on the back of an attacking creature. Link could hear its bones snap and crunch from his vantage point ten feet away. Luckily this turn brought an attacking creature into his sight; he parried its slashing claws with his sword and heard it screech in pain as its paw was forcibly amputated. It was stunned by the pain long enough to let him stab it through the throat; its howl dwindled to a dying gurgle and silence. Link then simultaneously broke the jaw of another with his shield and slid free his blade, then took off its head with a _chung!_

Hearing a snarl behind him, Link instinctively ducked and slashed upward, disemboweling the leaping creature above even as its jaws snapped shut on the air where his throat had just been. Hot blood spattered his face and wet his hair with its stickiness. With a grimace of distaste Link stood and slashed at the skull of another offending beast. The creature leapt back with surprising agility and pounced, trying to catch him off guard. Sidestepping smartly, Link sliced open its side as it soared past; its entrails cushioned its landing as its yellow eyes hazed over in death. _These things aren't very smart, are they?_

Even as he mentally mocked their one-track minds Link felt a line of pain race along his sword arm. With a growl he jerked his arm to safety and clobbered the offending creature with his shield. Both were undeterred; as the fanged creature opened its mouth for a snap Link fed it his sword, the tip bursting from the back of its skull with a bloody gout. Pulling it free, he took a moment to assess his arm. A long, shallow tear through leather and skin extended nearly six inches along his forearm and slowly but steadily dripped blood. Link tightened his grip on the hilt, feeling a burning sensation but no more. _I'll be fine._

He looked up and blinked, confused. More furry attackers had arrived and were tearing into the corpses, literally. Flesh ripped wetly and bone crunched between their jaws; several fought over a single corpse, shaking it like a rag doll before it split into chunks, blood spraying and shreds of flesh flying. Swallowing his disgust, Link saw an opportunity he could not afford to waste.

Only one creature stood between him and Epona; as it pounced he stabbed, spitting it through the mouth and along its spine. Pushing off the corpse with his boot Link returned his shield to his back and leapt onto Epona's saddle. He pulled an apple-sized black orb from a pouch at his belt, pressed his thumb to the fuse--lighting it--and tossed it over his shoulder and into the frenzy behind him. Digging his heels into Epona's side he cried "Yah!" and felt her leap into a gallop away from the feeding creatures and towards his humble abode.

A split second later the bomb exploded with a great _bang_ and a flash of flame, throwing the feeding creatures in all directions. Several crashed into trees and were stunned or broke bones; three were close enough to the blast to be shredded by flying shrapnel and were dead before they hit the ground; nearly all were singed, disoriented, and temporarily blind and deaf.

However, three were far enough away from the explosion to escape its adverse effects and give chase.

It took all of Link's skill as a rider to dart between the trees while maintaining speed. On the other hand, his pursuers seemed to be made for such chases. They bounded spryly after him, rippling between shafts of quicksilver moonlight and curtains of shadow.

Soon they were close enough that Link could hear their rapid-fire panting and see the bloodlust in their gleaming yellow eyes. One pulled alongside Epona, clearly intent on tackling Link from the saddle. It was too low; if Link dared lean down to kill it he would fall, hit a tree, or be pulled free of the saddle by another. All three scenarios meant near-certain death. Sheathing his sword, Link reached for the strange contraption at his belt. Gripping the device—called a hookshot—in one hand and the reins in the other he pointed the sharp barbed tip at the mutt's throat and pulled the trigger.

One of the hookshot's twin springs released, shooting the barbed tip at surprising speed while trailing chain from a spool on the hookshot's handle. It pierced the creature through the throat, causing it to stagger, trip and roll haphazardly along the ground, a victim of its own momentum. However, it was not yet dead; that was achieved after Link pulled the trigger a second time, which fired the second spring, reeled the tip back in, and ripped it—along with much of the mutt's throat—from its dying frame.

The other two creatures continued their pursuit, apparently unaffected by their comrade's death. Through the leafy canopy overhead he could see the sky turn pink with tidings of the oncoming dawn. _Do they only hunt at night?_ he wondered.

Low branches slapped at his face and chest with desperate urgency. Shielding his face and squinting, it was more Epona than he that steered her away from a thick tree and thus a painful collision and subsequent death. The sky seemed to grow brighter and the foliage less dense. _Was I closer to the forest's edge than I thought, or is Epona just hauling ass? Heh, probably both._

Link's stomach flipped as Epona jumped a fallen tree. Behind him one of the creatures used it as a springboard, hurtling through the air at his face with jaws and claws outstretched. Twisting smoothly to face it he straightened his arm and pointed the hookshot directly at the creature. With no time to think, he pulled the trigger and jerked the reins to the right.

The hookshot's deadly namesake hit dead-on at the base of the creature's throat and burst out the back, still trailing chain. The mutt's graceful leap turned into an awkward crash as Epona shied to the right, causing the mortally wounded furry missile to miss by a hair. The hookshot clicked in Link's hand as it ran out of chain, then nearly ripped him from the saddle as the dead beast was pulled along by its skewered throat. Link righted himself in the saddle and pulled the trigger again, ripping the barbed tip free of the creature's throat and reeling it home.

The trees were spaced fairly far apart now, admitting the dawn light benevolently through the now incomplete leafy ceiling overhead. The sole beast skidded to a halt with a terrified whimper, blinked with the air of a blinded owl, then turned tail and fled into the darker forest. Slowing Epona to a halt, Link thought, _Well, that was somewhat anticlimactic. I guess they _are_ nocturnal._ He wiped off the bloody hookshot and replaced it at his hip. _Still, that was strange. I've never seen those before. _He rubbed at his slightly bloodshot eyes, thinking, _That was one helluva wake up call. I'll sleep at home, I guess._

Returning Epona to a trot, he headed south and somewhat west, parallel to the forest edge. He toyed halfheartedly with asking Zelda about the new appearances but soon decided that he was overreacting. After all, they could just lurk in that patch of forest for all he knew. Link bound his wounded forearm with a rag often utilized for such a purpose then settled in for the short remainder of the ride home.

----------

Link arrived home a short hour later. It was a modest home for one with such a lofty title, but it was more of a home to him than a room in Hyrule Castle could ever hope to be. It shared a small clearing with a stable for Epona and a stream-fed pond that he often used for a bath. The house itself was a simple wooden cabin he had built from trees that had been felled from around the edges of the clearing.

Dismounting, he let Epona drink her fill from the stream and then led her to the stables. Only after she was situated there did Link walk to his door and step through. The inside of his home was as simple as the outside. His house contained only one room, about twenty feet long and wide. In the corner farthest from the door his bed beckoned enticingly. A few simple cabinets and drawers furnished the room; a table was tucked into one corner, round and well-worn. All of it he had made by hand. Pegs covered the wall across from the door, perches for the myriad weapons and masks he had accumulated over his many travels. They stood empty now, but not for long. The corner with the aforementioned round table served as his little makeshift kitchen; two cabinets nestled alongside one another there, one usually stocked with food ingredients. The other held silverware, dishes and such things in the bottom half; the top contained his little on-hand store of liquor and other alcoholic drinks. More was stored in the basement below. Though Link didn't drink much compared to many people, he had acquired many fine drinks throughout his travels as well as weapons. All was covered in a year's worth of dust.

With a wistful sigh he began the housework that always followed a protracted trip.

----------

At the same time Link arrived home something else arrived in Hyrule.

Ingo had woken late this fine morning and was justifiably panicked as he threw on his overalls and boots and fairly flew down the stairs and out the door, skipping breakfast. Today was his turn to muck out the stalls, and if Malon caught him sleeping in he could catch one of the fiery redhead's infamous tirades.

He snatched a pitchfork and bucket from the shed and fairly sprinted for the stables. Mercifully, Malon seemed to have slept in as well. With a sigh of relief he leaned the pitchfork against the wall to open the door. As his calloused palm grasped the brass knob he twitched. Ingo had spent eighteen years on this ranch, leaving only to sell milk when Malon or Talon was sick. In all this time he had gotten used to sounds on the ranch; chickens clucking, horses neighing, cows mooing. But he could have sworn that he just heard a crackle, like muted thunder, only the sky was a clear, vivid blue without a cloud in sight.

Shaking his head, Ingo turned the knob—and heard it again, this time more distinctly. The hair stood up on the back of his neck as he looked around warily; nothing seemed amiss. Then it crackled again, this time accompanied by a small flash in the middle of the now-empty corral.

"That does it," he mumbled, dropping the bucket and grabbing the pitchfork more like a spear than a barn tool. He strode nervously towards the corral, mustache twitching. At the entrance he paused and looked around the corral. Another crackle clearly coming from in front of him beckoned him onward. Still, he hesitated. Why did he always have to be alone when creepy things happened? A fifth crackle closely followed by a sixth spurned him onward. The noise continued in intensity and frequency; he could definitely tell that it was electrical now. As he neared the center of the corral, and thus the ranch, he froze.

The electric crackling that had drawn him here suddenly ascended into a full-blown roar as a small, pulsating dot appeared about four feet above the ground. The sound only grew louder as the dot expanded into a slowly growing and throbbing sphere, seemingly made of what looked like black lightning twisted into a sphere like a god's plaything.

Ingo realized that the wind was blowing rapidly away from the pulsating thing; he managed to take two shuddering steps backward before a loud roar made him jump and fall on his rear. Trembling in terror, he stared as the sphere flattened into a disk. The black energy, still crackling and roaring with malicious splendor, spread into a circle, leaving a mirror-smooth disk of black _nothing_ rimmed by that crackling energy.

The nothing wasn't nothing; it shifted, distorted like a blind man pressing against a curtain, and then the not-nothing ruptured. Black matter like malevolent, intelligent ink spilled forth and rushed for Ingo.

He only had time to scream once, and then he was gone.

----------

Link finished cleaning house around dusk. Nonperishable food from the basement now stocked the "kitchen" cabinet; he had gotten rid of the worst of the dust with a rag; his massive assortment of shields, swords, masks, and other miscellaneous weapons stood polished and proud upon their pegs; he had bathed in the stream, and washed most of his clothes; and many other chores of that particular vein.

Now, as he stripped for bed, the persistent ominous feeling and the sense of déjà vu returned from their niche at the back of his skull. Still, he could not pin down their cause. With a scowl-turned-yawn he slipped beneath the covers of his simple bed, fatigued from a long, long day.

It wasn't until he let the thoughts flow from his mind and his eyes drift shut in that hazy not-quite-sleep daze did part of the solution come clear. His eyes snapped back open.

He felt like he had felt this before because he had.

This was the sinking feeling he had felt when he had stepped out of the Temple of Time after his seven years of sleep, stepped out into a world that he had once known but had gone to hell.

Perhaps he should contact Zelda after all.

8


	2. II: Close to Home

R & R!

Close to Home

--------

Link awoke the next day not quite as well-rested as he would have preferred.

After a groggy stagger to the pool outside and a quick dunk of the head into its chill waters he managed to fully emerge from the clinging mists of unconsciousness. As he knelt by the edge of the icy pond, droplets tumbling from his hair into the rippling embrace of its crystalline surface, he ignored the cold breeze against his bare skin and shut his eyes to think.

Even in his brief time back in his homeland Hyrule seemed . . . off, for lack of a better word. It was not something he could bring to the front of his mind and examine; rather, it was a subtle undercurrent beneath the conscious stream of his thoughts, much more instinct than tangible belief. Link's instinct was his most trusted and valued companion in his travels. It had not failed him the previous morning, and he was sure it was not failing him now.

What to do? That was what it all boiled down to, the question that was foremost in his thoughts. Doing nothing would probably be the logical solution, just waiting and watching for clues that might shed light upon his problematic and ominous feelings. It would also allow whatever problems in Hyrule to grow larger and more imposing. Given the fact that he was relied upon to thin out the ranks of monsters that seemed to inevitably crop up because of the often lackluster state of the Hylian army, he was more or less an essential part of protecting Hyrule from being overwhelmed by monsters both far and near. Without him, things could degenerate quickly and massively. He had expected to have to "clean up" the new crop of creatures after his absence, but that would not prick his intuition like this; this was something else.

On the other hand he could go to Zelda. He was known at the castle, could gain an audience quickly and spill his guts about his intuition's tingling. Then again, he would probably be pulled into some "quest" or other at royal bidding, be again taken for a royal workhorse and one-man-army as he had so many times before.

_Let's play this by ear._

Link would ride to Lon Lon Ranch, watching for anything not of the norm as he went. Lon Lon lay at the center of Hyrule Field, and thus Hyrule as a whole. From there he could decide to see Zelda about his problems or travel around Hyrule, trying to investigate further.

Satisfied with his decision, Link stood and walked back into his cabin to prepare. If he left by noon he could reach the ranch in three days.

_This time_, he vowed, _I won't be caught napping._

_--------_

The bright and glaring sun over Hyrule Field that day could not burn away the shadowy ruminations at the far corners of his mind. Despite this he was relieved to find no signs of recent hostile activity in the heartland of Hyrule: no trampled and crushed grass covered with the impressions of the cloven hooves of Moblin mounts, no shattered bones from a stray Stalfo among the few remains of vanquished skeletal Stalchildren, (thankfully) no rotting corpses of merchants ambushed and murdered by bandits or worse.

Though he gazed through a veil of apparantly unfounded distrust Link drank in the familiar surroundings. It was, after all, a beautiful day, regardless of the mindset of the observer.

The grass was green with the life and fertility of spring, though still short after the frozen grip of winter. No clouds dared sully the vibrant blue hue of the sky with their presence, and a refreshing breeze danced across the rolling fields with the exhuberant carefree grace of a delighted child. Small towns and farms rolled by as the day wore on tirelessly. Perhaps fueled by delight at the familiar and well-loved terrain or by a clever guess at their destination, Epona trotted at an unusually swift pace, muscles rolling and flexing beneath Link with an marvelous power and grace.

Link was well-prepared for any trouble that may occur. For this trip he had disregarded his usual travel rationale of light and fast and instead packed on almost everything in the house. Had it not been for his peculiar strength and the power of the space-bending and gravity-warping pouches he would not be able to stand. Instead of wrapping his bow and quiver and binding them to the saddle as he often did Link had them strapped beneath his shield and across his back. He even brought his two-handed backup blade, a claymore forged by the legendary smith Biggoron of Death Mountain; it took the bow and quiver's usual place on the saddle, swaddled in rags as to not be stolen for its prodigious value in Rupees. The Kokiri sword of his youth, now no more than a large dagger him as an adult, nestled as it always did hidden beneath his shield in the small of his back.

His weapons, however, would not taste blood on this day, for he arrived in the small town of Maron at nightfall without incident. Entrusting Epona (sans Biggoron's sword) and a few Rupees in the care of three preteen stable boys, Link checked into a small inn for the night and promptly fell asleep.

During the night his sword was never more than six inches from his hand, for the pleasant surroundings had not banished the doubts lurking just below the stream of his thoughts.

_--------_

The next day passed nearly identically, with no bloodshed or troubles other than his nagging thoughts. The final day, however, was not so idealic. This day marked the end of his blissful ignorance and the beginning of his entrance into a conflict more immense in scope than he could possibly hope to imagine.

After setting out from the small town of Colin in which he had slept for the night Link veered slightly more north than west and soon caught sight of his destination. Lon Lon Ranch steadily grew from a small, dark hump perched on the edge of the horizon into a cluster of low buildings safely nestled inside a high stone wall built before he had been born. As if compensating for cheerful blue of the last few days the sky was dyed a steel gray by a blanket of clouds. Rain, thankfully, seemed unlikely. Perhaps he was just being superstitious, but some of the worst events of his life had taken place in the rain, making hm slightly on edge in a downpour.

As he slowly grew closer to the ranch Epona grew more excited and quickened her pace. They would not gain entrance for an hour; that was certain. Link lapsed into thoughts of Malon, his first and best friend after leaving the forest so long ago, whose father owned and operated the ranch.

Circling around the enclosed ranch to meet the sole north-facing entrance took an additional five minutes. Link found the wrought iron gate standing closed. _Odd_, he thought. _Malon opens it at dawn, doesn't she?_ Dismounting Epona he jogged over to the gate, shivering in a sudden chill wind. Reaching throught the bars, he rattled the chain binding the two halves of the swinging gate shut. The lock was in place.

Link paused for a moment to think, rubbing his suddenly cold ears. _Well, everyone here knows me, and Epona will defend herself for a few minutes . . . damn, what happened to the sun?_ Goosebumps rippled into being across all exposed skin. Link shivered and came to a decision.

Turning to Epona, he stroked her velvety nose and said, "Stay here for a sec, okay?" He then turned, grasped the cold black iron bars, and hauled himself up and over the fence. Careful not to gore himself on the tips of the vertical bars—disturbingly, they looked like they had been sharpened—he dropped onto the other side, turned, and strode warily into the ranch. Suddenly his feelings from the prior days returned in force. One hand reached over his shoulder and pulled free his custom blade with a soft _shiiiik_.

With a renewed sense of caution he continued forward. It grew colder; long gone was the pleasant warmth of the midday sun. The once-refreshing breeze turned into a fleet of wind-blown icy razors of chilled air that seemed to penetrate his flesh and garb to chill him to the bone.

Link's cerulean eyes warily took in the familiar sights of the ranch. The two-story house to his left and the stables to his right formed a lane of sorts that led to the corral in the center of the ranch. A narrow dirt track circled the perimeter of the corral, often used for races; with a grimace Link remembered the fateful duo of races in the alternate timeline that had earned him Epona from the then-insane Ingo. A small shed lay alongside the stables, and a stone building on the opposite side of the ranch housed the ranche's well as well as a few extra cows. A henhouse, strangely silent, rested alongside the eastern side of the wall that covered the perimeter of the ranch.

That was it_—_the ranch seemed strangely ominous because of its silence. The sounds of the livestock that was the soul of the ranch were mysteriously absent. Even the melodious ululations of Malon's singing were nowhere to be found. A breathless hush lay like a heavy blanket over the ranch, making the ordinarily lively place seem almost comatose.

_Or in the cold, dead grip of rigor mortis._ The thought drifted through his mind as a dark whisper as fleeting as a wasp's shadow on a summer afternoon.

With a grunt Link suppressed his darker suppositions as best as he could. On light feet he crossed to the house door and gripped the worn brass knob with his free hand. After a moment's painful hesitation he twisted, pushed, and stepped through, sword held at the ready. Then he froze in horror.

_--------_

Two riders in a doomed other world raced for the third of their number, knowing that mere seconds seperated them from a fate worse than death.

The woman in front, black tresses whipping around her face in the gale-force winds, gave a short cry as she glanced over her shoulder at the black abyss that had swallowed their world. Great whorls and arches of an inky blackness clawed hungrily into the sky turned crimson. The fractured, shaking land they now rode up had once been a flat, grassy plain. In the tremors and ensuing hell, however, it had turned into a massive, crumbling slope that seemed as high as the tallest mountain. Of course, there were no mountains but for this any more. This chunk of scorched rock and the three riders were all that remained of this dying world, the edges of which were falling out from beneath them and into the infinite blackness below.

The rear rider, a man, waved his bloodstained sword to grab her attention and screamed, "Keep your eyes ahead!"

Heeding his wisdom, she turned to the front in time to spot the quickly yawning chasm ahead. "Crevasse!" Her horse leapt the gap with little difficulty and continued to race uphill.

However, the chasm had doubled its width by the time he had reached its sheer edge. The ground lurched and dropped away beneath his purebred prize Rassen horse as it jumped, landing inches from the edge. Its rear hooves struck loose ground and slipped—the steel horseshoes spat sparks as they grated backwards over the naked rock.

The horse gave a squeal of terror as it slipped back, towards the edge, for the ledge from which they had jumped was gone, fallen into and swallowed by the growing black abyss. Roaring in terror-flavored defiance the man shifted his weight as forward he could and whipped the reins. A split second from oblivion the hooves caught and the horse sprang forward, muscles flexing and heaving. But the man did not allow himself to loosen his white-knuckle grip on his sword and the reins yet.

Just ahead waited his companions, one having managed to reopen the portal the being had left this world through. They would follow it with the flames of vengeance burning bright in their hearts, follow it and end its eons-old path of destruction.

For they were now the last of their world, three survivors out of the untold billions that had been consumed.

_--------_

The first thing Link saw was the blood.

It was smeared and spattered over the far wall and had pooled beneath the table and over nearly a third of the room, thick, congealed, dark, dried. A chair was overturned in the blood, one plate of half-eaten bacon, eggs, and toast on the floor in the edges of the blood pool, the plate shattered. Talon lay with his back against the gore-stained wall, the two of the three iron tines of a pitchfork embedded in his flabby chest. His blue work coveralls were stained a red-black with his blood, which had welled out of many puncture wounds in his chest and a long tear in his shoulder.

The portly, good-natured rancher's bearded face was twisted in pain, horror, shock, and confusion. The red-smeared holes in the was above his corpse told the gruesome tale of his death: he had been attacked mid-breakfast and had tried to defend himself, resulting in his shoulder wound, then had been stabbed and pinned to the wall, after which he had slumped to the ground in death, still being stabbed repeatedly.

A few feet away lay Ingo, the moody but reliable farmhand. His white coveralls were also smeared with gore. His arms lay at his side at awkward angles, obviously broken, while his face was so beaten and bloodied it was nearly unrecognizable. The splintered, broken off shaft of the pitchfork had been used to beat the poor man into unconsciousness, after which he had been stabbed in the throat with something, probably the same pitchfork's missing tine. The makeshift club that had mutilated him so had been dropped in the blood pool next to his corpse.

Link closed his eyes and leaned his weight against the doorframe, not sure of his abiliy to remain standing. His stomach tightened; he was used to seeing horrible sights with monsters and hostile beasts he was forced to kill, but seeing innocent people—especially friends—slaughtered in such a horrible and macabre manner darted past his steely reserve. _Goddesses . . . What did they ever do to deserve this?_ Inhaling the cloying scent of death, Link gagged and bashed his head purposefully on the doorframe. _Get ahold of yourself. Find Malon first, then the killer._

Forcing open his eyes, Link began to visually search the room for any signs as to Malon's location. He was about to step in when he heard it.

Singing, coming from outside, from the corral.

_Malon!_

Link spun and sprinted outside, towards a redhead clad in a simple white sleeping gown. "Malon?" She stood just a few yards inside the otherwise empty corral, hands clasped in front of her, her back to him. "Mal, are you alright?"

Slowing to a walk but not yet willing to sheathe his sword, Link slowly approached his longtime friend. Something seemed wrong, out of place. Her normally beautiful singing voice seemed slightly leaden and almost forced; her normally fiery red hair hung pale and limp to her waist; instead of swaying gently with the tempo of the song, as she had as long as he had known her, she stood stock still. Link held out his free hand to touch her shoulder. "Mal?"

Her singing stopped.

Her attack came in a blur of motion: she spun on the spot, left hand batting away his right, her other hand stabbing with the lost gore-stained pitchfork tine for his throat.

Instinct kicked in. Link twirled his sword between them and used its deadly edge to neatly bisect the makeshift dagger, cutting it in two just inches from Malon's fingers and sending its sharp tip whistling off to the side.

Now Link's instinct failed. How could he fight his best friend? He glimpsed Malon's pale face, dead eyes, and the dried blood on her front—then she dropped the useless tine, grabbed the wrist of his sword arm, and launched an uppercut that smacked into his chin and made him see stars.

Link felt his jaws snap shut and his neck crack from the blow, then felt rushing air as his feet left the ground. Flipping lazily in midair, he saw the top of the gate of the corral pass beneath him—_I'm flying,_ he thought with a surprising level of detachment—and then he slapped down hard against the packed dirt of the track. The breath fled his lungs with a wheezing gasp. His head whipped forward and his temple cracked against a small stone; pain exploded beneath the skin from forehead to temple, he felt the warm, wet trickle of blood down his scalp, and his sword flew from his hand. Feeling a painful tearing sensation and warmth in his sword arm, Link realized his arm wound had been torn open by his short, painful flight and abrupt landing.

Half stunned, the Hero of Time managed to raise his head on his painful neck to stare at Malon. Only it was not the Malon he had met as a young boy.

As he looked on in stunned silence, whatever malevolent force that was controlling Malon revealed its vile presence. The little color in her skin fled, leaving her skin looking pale, waxy, almost dead. Beneath the skin, thin, twisting lines of some black substance began to appear. Twisting, seperating, fusing together, the black lines seemed to form a convoluted network beneath her skin, like veins ferrying the brackish lifeblood of some great and terrible beast. Her crimson hair was drained of its color and turned a pale silver-gray. Lacking vitality, it twitched and fluttered feebly in the cold and biting wind. Worst of all were her eyes. As the black "veins" reached her normally beautiful and lively emerald eyes they slowly darkened into a swirling and bloody red. It was horrible, like seeing a serenely beautiful pond slowly fill with blood.

Her features were blank, her walk slightly awkward but steadily improving as she slowly strolled towards the recovering Hero. Whatever was apparently controlling Malon had hit him hard enough to send him flying _over_ the gate to the corral, a good eight feet into the air at the very least.

Link may have been vanquished then and there had it not been for what happened next.

A crackling sphere of energy burst into being in the very center of the corral, directly above a swath of dead and half-burnt grass. As it flattened into a disc and smoothed its ebony surface as flat as a mirror the controlled Malon turned, her pretty features twisted into an insane scowl.

Link realized that this was probably going to be his only chance to prepare himself. Not wasting any time, he dove for his sword and smoothly scooped it up as he rolled to his feet. Not wanting to hurt Malon any more than absolutely necessary, he pulled his shield from his back and secured it to his forearm, giving him a means to block her powerful strikes without removing one of Malon's extremeties. He was as ready to exorcize Malon as he ever was going to be.

He began to approach Malon with his shield raised and his mind racing furiously for ideas to liberate his friend. He had only taken a few steps, however, when his eyes were drawn to the center of the corral.

Link recognized the now-bulging disc of magical energy as a portal, as he had much experience with such things in his travels. Still, he had never seen one like this before; it seemed different, foreign, as though it was the product of some creatures hostile and alien to this realm. Link had no idea how close to the truth he was with his guesses, and had no idea to contemplate their accuracy, as the thin "skin" of magic seperating the unnaturally chill air of Lon Lon and whoever—or whatever—was trying to travel here was bulging and straining.

For a brief second he thought that the "skin" was going to hold, and that whatever was trying to burst through would instead rebound off of the other side like a young circus acrobat off a trampoline. Then with a dull hiss it broke.

First through was a woman with sweat-drenched black hair flailing like a gale-whipped streamer behind her head on a fine grey mare. With a whoop of relief she felt the hooves of her mare thud onto the turf. She guided her horse to the side, apparently to make way for more of her compatriots. So heartfelt was her relief that she did not yet notice the two Hylian onlookers. In one hand she held a mildly curved and bloodstained shortsword.

Second through was a man with dirty blond hair and blue-gray eyes on a bay stallion. His reaction to the land was identical to the woman's, and a fine (if bloodied) longsword of foreign make was gripped in his leather-clad fist. He nudged his stallion alongside the woman's mare and leant towards her, evidently for a releived kiss; he froze, however, with his eyes transfixed on Malon with a mix of hatred, horror . . . and recognition?

Last through was another man, dressed in clothes as black as the feathers of a raven, upon a mare whose markings matched his own. A magnificent longsword was sheathed at his hip. He released his clenched fist and the portal shrank into oblivion behind him.

Eyes on the newcomers, Link circled around Malon until he had his back to the eastern wall. In this position he was between Malon and the strange new arrivals, had no one at his back, and could defend either side if need arose. No one moved for several seconds; it was a tenuous stalemate, in which no side risked moving. Then Malon spoke in a leaden, raspy voice unlike her usual carefree and teasing tone.

"So you survived and managed to follow me? Unexpected. I must commend your audacity." Her voice dropped an octave. "The souls of your fellow creatures were most nourishing. Your continued defiance will make your demises all the sweeter."

_What the hell? These people seem to know what's controlling Malon . . . maybe they can help._

The man in black garb dismounted. Until now Link had not noticed just how tall he was; although his companions were of normal size, the man must have been at least six feet and nine inches. He had about him an air of quiet, elegant, yet savage deadliness that seemed to add another foot to his already impressive height. His voice was cultured baritone that held a deadly calm and eloquence with a hidden razor edge of anger. "You waste your time trying to goad us into fighting. We require no encouraging." He strode forward as his companions also dismounted; a round shield was soon strapped to the woman's free arm. "Although you hardly seem fit to fight in your current split form."

Malon's crimson gaze flashed—literally. She snarled, "Your impudence will not go unpunished, wretch!"

The other man had been gritting his teeth throughout the entire exchange. Rage burnt bright behind his eyes. "Enough talk!" He sprinted forward, blade held with a white-knuckled grasp beside him.

Behind him the woman shouted, "Ren, no!" Both she and the other man started after him.

Link leapt forward, knowing he was too late but unwilling to see anyone harmed until he knew the three's motivations and a way to safely remove the dark presence from Malon.

Had it not been for Malon's new inhuman swiftness she would have been rent in two. The charging man identified by the woman as Ren made as though to stab for Malon's side, then skillfully spun his blade above his head and down in a vertical slice. However, Malon was not fooled, or was too fast, or perhaps was both; she grasped his wrist in mid-strike as she had with Link and sent her free fist crashing into his stomach. Ren's entire body bent painfully around the point of impact as Malon used his momentum and her impossible strength to throw him carelessly over her head and toward the gate behind her.

The throw left Malon's back to the Hero of Time, an opportunity he could not resist. Lowering his head, he dove headfirst into a tackle, aiming to knock Malon down so he could restrain her. Again he was foiled; the possessed farmgirl twirled, her closed fist crashing into his exposed side and sending him flying to his right and towards Ren.

As he bounced and skidded the man and woman reached Malon, attacking as a team instead of an individual as the first two had. Neither intended to try and free Malon, remembering other failed attempts that had resulted in massive amounts of lives lost. Instead they struck to kill.

Malon ducked the man's slash at her throat and slapped the flat of the woman's blade, batting it out of the way. She then lefted her leg and sent her bare foot at the attacking woman in a kick that could crush bones as though they were twigs. The woman brought her shield up in time, but the impact of Malon's bare foot on her shield of Rassen steel sent her stumbling backwards and onto her back.

As Link skidded to a stop beneath the gate to the corral his mind raced. _How in the Goddesses' names can I . . . That's it! Whatever this thing is, it reeks of darkness; the relic of the Goddesses, the triforce, will burn it from Malon's body!_

He scrambled to his feet as Ren sprinted back towards the fight. "Wait!" Link cried.

He stopped and spun around, giving Link enough time to catch up. "Don't hurt her," he gasped, rubbing his bruised side, "I have a way that should get that thing out of her, let us kill it without slaughtering my friend."

"No," the man spat, "it won't work."

Link was shocked. "What?"

"There's no time." He glanced at the fight in front of them. The woman had rejoined the fight; now all Malon did was bend and sway with an unnatural litheness out of every slash and stab. "You'll kill yourself for no use."

"You'd forfeit an innocent woman's _life_ just because you aren't will to risk your own? Coward." Link spat.

Ren whirled to face him, his sword clenched at his side, face livid. "You don't know what this thing, this _abomination_ has done. Once we made the mistake you did. An entire city was mercilessly slaughtered because of it. I _won't_ let history repeat itself!"

Link held up his left hand, showing Ren the divine triangles glowing on the back of his palm. "The Goddesses lend me their strength." He brushed past him, but felt Ren's hand on his shoulder.

"You don't understand—this thing—"

Link began to run. "Let me try!"

"No!" He heard Ren take chase. "Don't waste your own life, it's worthless—she's already dead, consumed!"

"Shut up!" Link ripped his shield from his arm and flung it behind him and down; it tangled with Ren's legs and sent him crashing to the ground.

"Cover your eyes!" Link shouted as he pulled a small brown seed from a pouch at his belt, threw it at the ground at Malon's feet, and shielded his eyes with his arm, not slowing down. He gathered the impression that the man and women followed his example—

The Deku seed hit the ground and burst in a blinding flash of light. Malon stumbled back, momentarily blinded; Link shifted his sword to his off hand and once again threw himself into a tackle. This time, however, he felt his shoulder slam into Malon's midriff, sending them both to the ground and momentarily stunning the possessed farmgirl.

Link straddled Malon, setting his knees on her upper arms to keep her immobilized, and pressed the flat of his sword blade against her throat gently but firmly to keep her head still. Pressing the back of his sword hand—and thus his triforce piece—against her forehead, he channeled as much power as he could into the back of his hand and prayed, _Goddesses, give me strength—purge this girl of her captor!_

He felt a great burning heat on the back of his hand, centering on the three holy triangles on the back of his hand. He felt as though his hand might catch flame. _Come on . . ._

A pure white light radiated from his hand, forcing Link to squint against its brilliance. Malon shrieked in pain as crackling bolts of white energy ran beneath her skin, rooting out the black matter and forcing it to recede into her core. The red drained from her eyes as she began to thrash beneath him, though she now lacked the strength that had so shocked him minutes earlier. Her struggles swiftly grew more violent, her cries more agonized, until he began to wonder if Ren had been right: _Is she already dead? Or am I killing her?_

Then she gave one last titanic heave, throwing Link off of her and onto his back. The blackness gave an otherwordly shriek as it was expelled from the woman in a miniature explosion, leaving it hovering like a foul black mist in the air. Link, stunned, could do nothing but stare as it rapidly coalesced into an ebony ball the size of an apple, rose high into the air, and blinked out sight.

His stillness, however, could not last long. With a cry Link tossed aside his sword and scrambled to Malon's side, cradling her head in his lap. He watched as the familiar crimson color flowed back into her hair and her cheeks regained a faint pale pink tint of life, free from any unnatural black matter. Still, she was unnaturally pale and gaunt; however long she had been possesed she had probably not eaten, leaving her thin and starving. "Mal? Please, in Farore's name, say something. Tell me you're alive."

And then her eyes fluttered weakly open. " . . . Link?"

A worried smile graced Link's face with its presence. "I'm here, Mal. I came back. I'm finally back home."

Malon's eyes flickered to and fro erratically, blindly. With a start Link realized she was delerious. "Link . . . I'm so . . . c-cold. . ." Her eyes slipped shut.

"Wait, oh Goddesses be okay . . ." Link bent over, put his ear next to her pale lips. He felt the faint warm carress of her breath upon his ear. He sighed in relief. "Thank loving Nayru. She's alive—and the dark matter is gone."

Remembering the three others, he opened his eyes saw the shock on Ren and the woman's faces. The black-garbed man's face didn't show any emotion, just a chilled detachment.

Ren spoke first. "Gods . . . you did it." His shock was spiced with a dash of anger. "We can't find a solution after years of searching . . . and you find it in minutes." A wry humor took its place on his tanned visage. "Guess that says something 'bout us, huh? Shouldn't have doubted you . . . whoever you are."

The woman spoke up. "Introductions and such later. Let's take care of her first. Can you carry her to the house?"

Link's joy died as quickly as a punctured balloon. "She didn't live alone . . . I didn't get here in time."

The woman winced. "Ah . . . how about that stone building over there?" She pointed to the well house.

Link nodded and scooped Malon up in his arms, disturbed at how little she weighed. They continued to the well house in awkward silence.

_--------_

A brief five minutes later Link let in Epona with a key he had found in the stables and situated the four horses in the empty stalls. He had volunteered for the mundane tasks to give himself time to think, to be better prepared for whatever he faced when he returned to the stone well house. Luckily the woman seemed to know a bit about healing, or at least more than Link and the others did; as she tended to Malon Link wiped clean the gash on his temple and bound the slash on his arm in secret. He didn't to have to refuse allowing her to treat his wounds, as he didn't trust the odd three but did not want to offend them.

As he began to walk back towards the stone well house, Link began to think about the lack of animals in the ranch. No horses, cows, cuccos, or pigs roamed anywhere, and the lack of fresh droppings indicated that they had been absent for several days. _Oh, well. Just another question to ask Malon and those strange people._ Who were they, anyway? How did they know about the strange, apparently sentient black matter that had controlled Malon? On that note, what the hell _was _that?

_Something tells me this is going to be a long day._

Link opened the door to the well house, then thought of something temporarily more imposing than answers. Sticking his head inside, he said somewhat uncertainly, "Uh, Ren, right?"

The smaller of the two men inside looked up from his duty—apparently pulling water from the well for Malon's treatment. "How do you know my name?"

Pointing at the woman, Link replied, "She yelled it. Help me with something outside."

"I'm helping my wife help your friend. Gimme a sec."

Link gritted his teeth. "Ren. Malon doesn't need to see the corpses of her father and friend, both of whom she almost certainly killed, on top of all this when she wakes up. Come on."

Ren's eyes widened, and he pulled the bucket from the well and gave it to the woman tending to Malon—apparently his wife. "Coming."

As Ren shut the door and walked alongside Link to the shed he started talking somewhat abashedly. "Sorry about that. I thought one of our horses was freaking out; they're used to being cared for by us, not strangers. If I knew you were burying the woman's family I would've come right away."

"Her name's Malon," Link couldn't help but let a sliver of anger into his voice.

Ren picked up on it. "You're still angry 'bout that scrap back there, aren't you?"

Link didn't reply. Ren sighed. "Look. My entire clan—essentially my family—was slaughtered because we were trying to save our chieftan, who had been possessed by that same thing. Fifty-seven people, all of them I had known since I was six, were killed in front of my eyes by that thing." He looked down. "I was the one who ended up killing him. I just don't want to see more people die in vain just to save one person, who probably was already dead. I'm no coward; I just can't bear to see what happened to my world happen to yours."

"What?" Link looked up. "What do you mean, 'my world?' There's only one world. Hyrule's one country among many, but there's only one world."

"Let's leave the explaining of the really big stuff to Kain. He knows it the best, and his vocabulary is friggin' massive."

"Kain?"

"The big guy. Alva's my wife, and you apparently know my name."

Link nodded. _Few answers and more questions. Goody._ "Here's the shed. Grab a shovel."

Pulling open the doors, they stepped into the dusty confines of the shed. Link couldn't help but wince at the sight of the two empty pegs where the pitchfork usually hung. Both snatched shovels then headed for the house. Ren tried to breach the awkward silence. "So . . . you live here, or something?"

Link shook his head. "I'm almost always traveling, but I live a few days southeast of here. I've known Malon and her father since I was ten, though, so this has always been a sort of home away from home." He couldn't help but feel rediculous making small talk while about to bury his friends.

The two men stepped through the door; Ren sucked air through his teeth. "Yeah, I guess she wouldn't want to see this."

"Well . . . let's get to work."

_--------_

They finished an hour later, sweating lightly. The clouds overhead had dissappeared, and the sky was turning red-gold as though to offset the violence of the day. The two low mounds of Talon and Ingo's graves were next to the grave of Malon's mother alongside the well house. Ren and Link also ferried a few strips of cloth and supplies to the well house at Alva's request.

Now Link washed his hands free of the crusted blood from transporting the corpses across the ranch in the water from the well. After scrubbing the soiled gauntlets he removed them and laid them alongside a small fire below a gap in the roofing to dry. He checked on Malon, but she was still unconscious. With a sigh he sat down on a stool in the corner near the door.

The well house was small, all four walls forming a square twenty feet in length. The floor was packed dirt. Hay had been thrown in the corners, though much of it had been gathered and covered with a saddle blanket for a bed for Malon in the corner nearest the door. The roofing were simple and largely effective overlapping wooden slats, though Link was sure they would leak if it rained. A small fire burnt beneath a gap in the roofing, coverable by a simple wooden plank that could be slid into or out of position on rudimentary hinges. The well itself sat in the middle of the room; a crank could hoist the bucket up on a rope from its dark depthes.

Now that he was relatively undisturbed Link took his time to fully examine the others. Alva was thin and curvy, what his friend Kafei would call "a real head-turner." Or, to put it in a more concise manner, beautiful. Her black hair hung to just above the small of her back, occaisonally falling in front of her hazel eyes only to be distractedly tucked behind an ear as she tended to Malon. With a start, Link realized her ears were rounded. _Of course_, he reasoned, _they aren't Hylian. Why should they have Hylian ears?_

She was dressed in heavy travel or light battle garb. A leather-backed light hauberk of some shiny fine metal covered a pale green blouse of light cloth. Over it all was a simple tunic of well-worn thick cloth dyed a dark green, almost brown that he couldn't help but notice clung to her curves in all the right places. She also wore simple leather riding pants, leather boots, and fingerless gloves of a thin, supple leather. Her shortsword and small shield hung at her hip.

Ren was dressed similarly in a thin white undershirt, leather-backed hauberk, gray doublet, and dark blue leather jerkin. A longsword was sheathed at his belt. Simple breaches, boots, and leather gauntlets completed the package. His eyes were a pale gray-blue, hair a dirty blond at shoulder length. A thin scar stretched across his left cheek from jaw to cheekbone—it looked too straight and purposeful to be a random wound. _Torture?_ He seemed to have the same physique as Link—compact, agile, and strong, probably skilled with the sword.

That left Kain, who was currently leaning in the corner opposite Link's, arms crossed and eyes closed apparently in thought. Easily the tallest in the room, he stood somewhere upwards of six feet nine inches. Tall and well-muscled, he seemed accustomed to command. A foreign but well-crafted longsword, still sheathed, had been unclipped from his belt and now leaned against the wall next to him. He seemed clothed for battle—or a throne room, for the black majesty of his armor and cloak. Link had never seen armor crafted in such a fashion. It seemed to merge the best aspects of the restricting steel shell of heavy plate armor and the flexible but less strong chainmail. It was constructed of plates of some black metal, relatively thin but apparently strong. None of the plates on his chest were larger than six inches, yet they all formed together into a near-solid whole that, from what he had seen, could flex and shift with its wearer. It coated his torso and legs, from what Link could see, as the great black cloak Kain wore covered most of his body.

Plates of the strange armor reinforced Kain's boots and gauntlets of black leather. His cloak seemed as foreign as his armor; it was worn much like a jacket with the front exposed, only it fell to his calves. Simple yet elegant silver threadwork traced its edges. The sleeves billowed wide but ended just below his elbows, at the edge of his gauntlets, which were leather with a plate of the strange black metal running along the edge of his forearm. The cloak also had a hood, though it was currently down.

Raven hair fell to just above his belt, one lock ignored as it fell in his face. A thin but long scar traveled from his jaw, over his right eye, across his forehead and terminated at his hairline—a relic of some bygone but terrible injury.

His eyes snapped open, showing strange irises the color of quicksilver, and stared back at Link, who held his gaze determinedly. Link suddenly was aware of Kain's strange air of graceful yet savage deadliness; he nearly looked away, but stared back into the imposing silver pools.

The corner of Kain's mouth twitched upward as he shut his eyes and leaned back, leaving Link with the feeling of passing a test. "Have you finished scrutinizing us yet?"

Link blinked. He had been covert enough in his observations, and Kain had his eyes closed. _How does he . . ._ He tried to hide his momentary surprise by replying, "Yes. Have you finished scrutinizing me?"

"Very nearly." The silver eyes opened again, seeming to pierce whatever mental barriers Link imposed around his emotions. "I spent many years of my early life wearing a blindfold, as my eyes then were not deemd worthy of seeing or being seen. I learned to see without seeing long ago." _So much for hiding surprise. What does he do, read minds?_

Link was reminded of Zelda's alter-ego Sheik's elaborate but cryptic speaches, and how they usually contained some sort of worthwhile hidden meaning. _Oh, great. I _love_ this cryptic shit._ He gave Kain a flat stare, trying to hide a simmering anger at himself for allowing him to be read so easily. "Are you one of those scholars who get off on confusing other people?"

Ren, he had been listening to the conversation, snorted. "I can't imagine Kain in any position but one that lets him stab stuff. He's just that kind of guy."

The Hylian couldn't help but allow himself a small smirk and say, "Sounds like a great person to me."

Kain ignored him. "We never learned your name."

"I'm Link. You're Kain, she's Alva, he's Ren." So he was a little short; it had been a long day.

"Good. I see you have talked with Ren." Kain shifted and crossed his arms; his strange armor rustled and clicked gently. "Now, what are you doing here?"

Link's eyes bulged."What?" He cried, "Are you joking?" His pent-up frustration and anger from the entire ordeal surfaced as he began gesticulating wildly. "You appear randomly in my best friend's ranch through a portal 'from another world' just when I get here while she just _happens_ to be possessed by some homicidal black thing, and you ask what _I_ am doing here? I think just a few of the really relevant questions here are 'What the _hell_ are you doing here?' and 'What in the name of the Goddesses is that black thing?'"

Kain was undeterred by his sudden rage. "We had to know if you knew about the being and were sent to fight it, signifying that the country is aware of the threat, or if your arrival was just luck. From your answer I'm guessing you didn't know about it."

Link clamed himself as much as he could; he could not afford to make enemies of these people just yet, as they seemed to know more about this threat then he did. "I didn't know about it until Malon smacked me upside the face hard enough to send me flying over the gate—though she's tried it once or twice before. She's always had a hell of a temper." He rubbed his chin, the underside of which was swiftly bruising; had it not been for his peculiar hardiness the bone probably would have been shattered. "But I just arrived here after a long stint in our neighboring country, Termina, which is seperated from Hyrule by a near-impenetrable forest. To be honest, the capital could have burned to the ground and I probably wouldn't know."

Alva spoke up. "So, since it left Tamar three days ago it probably arrived here three days ago. That means that it's had enough time to spread while remaining relatively unnoticed by the monarchy, or whatever runs wherever we are. Or, at least, that's what it did with us."

"You're in Hyrule, lead by Queen Zelda. Tamar?"

"Our world." This time it was Ren who spoke.

"Again, what do you mean by 'our world?' There's only one."

Kain, as Ren said he would, began to speak. "No, there are thousands—millions, billions, uncountable numbers of worlds, each goverened by their own particular deity or deities. From what I've heard you say, the deities of this world are goddesses."

"Yeah, the Three Golden Goddesses: Din, Nayru, and Farore."

"Yes. From my conversations with it during my captivity I learned that it had 'consumed' many other worlds besides ours." Link sensed that he was hiding part of the story; his ears perked up at 'captivity,' but the strange man didn't elaborate, and now seemed to not be the time.

"'Consumed?'"

"It seems that it feeds off of entire worlds—rocks, trees, air, glass, stone, it can consume anything and convert it into more of the 'dark matter' you saw, which it uses to control and feed on others. Although it seems to be nourished more by the souls, flesh, and life of living things."

Link paused. It took several seconds for the scope of things to set in. "It didn't seem to have much matter in Malon."

"I believe it has divided itself, probably among the livestock formerly in this ranch, to spread and feed."

Link seemed proud of himself for spotting a hole in their story. "If it lives to feed, why did it control Malon instead of killing and consuming her?"

"As it is normally, 'dark matter' in your words, it lacks enough substance to act effectively. So, to counter this it possesses people and uses them as deadly puppets or twists and distorts their flesh into something unnatural, loyal, and deadly.until it gathers enough mass to compact itself into a solid form."

Link frowned. He didn't like where this was going. "And when it does?"

"It becomes essentially invincible."

He crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head to think. The story was far-fetched, to be certain; then again, almost nothing in Link's life had been 'normal.' Malon had been possessed by _something_, something that had seemed not like anything Link had seen in his many travels. "If I said I believed you, what would you do?"

"Ask you to take us to your ruler—Zelda, was it?" He paused as Link nodded. "We would warn her of the danger. Depending on her response, we would have two options: if she sends troops or mages and such after the spreading "dark matter" and its spawn we would guide, advise, and aid those 'search and destroy' parties. Inversely, if she refused to act or did not believe our tale we would set out alone, to avenge our world and hopefully save yours."

"You speak for all three of you?" He gestured to the others.

Alva replied in Kain's stead, "Yes. He has the most experience with the thing, is the most powerful, and seems to be good enough about it to hopefully not get us killed." Link nearly missed how Kain's eyes shifted when Alva said the word "powerful." His eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue.

Link frowned, thinking momentarily before coming to a decision. "I was already en route to see the Queen when this mess happened. You can tag along 'til we reach the capital and I can get you an audience with the Queen; I'm a friend of the crown, so to speak, so it should be relatievly easy for you to see her. But," he held up a finger, "we don't leave until Malon recovers enough to travel with us. She shouldn't be isolated like this all alone; I can find her a place in the capital, probably paid for by the crown."

Kain looked like he was about to object, but stilled himself. Renspoke slowly and carefully, "You do know this thing has already got a three-day—four-day at the least, actually, as it's too late to start out—lead on us, right? It's not going to wait." He glanced at the sleeping redhead. "Look, don't get me wrong, I want to help her, too. Just know what you're getting into."

"I know."

Alva stood and stretched, then walked over to the discussion and sat down on a pile of hay. "Aside from a few ugly bruises she's only fatigued and slightly malnourished; a night of rest and a few big meals and she'll be ready to go, though she's not going to be doing any hard athletics in the next few days."

"So we can set out tomorrow?"

She nodded in response.

"Good. It will probably take a few days to get there—I'd guess around four or five. There are enough towns in between that there'll always be a bed and hot food at night." Link piled and shaped some hay into a small, scratchy mattress and covered it with a thin wool blanket he had brought in from the house. "We should leave early."

Link sat on his simple bedding, which he had positioned to give him a good view of Malon, the three strangers, and the door, and removed his tunic and pouches. He made sure to be the last awake as they prepared for rest, not yet trusting the odd trio enough to present them with a sleeping target.

Seconds after he heard their breathing slow into the range of deep sleep he let his eyes drift shut, left hand inches away from his sword, triforce glowing subtly on the bare skin.


	3. III: The Futile Envoy

**_Short AN--check the bottom of my bio for an update on the new chapter(s). It's in _bold_. I'll update every other page, or something like that._**

To risk repetition . . . R&R!

Sorry for the delays.

III:

The Futile Envoy

--------

Link woke at dawn the next day to find Kain and Malon absent from their bedrolls. He rubbed at his bleary eyes, dressed, and armed himself stealthily, with due respect to the sleeping couple. With his sword slung across his back and the still-wrapped Biggoron's Sword in hand he stole through the door to the outside ranch, closing it gently behind him.

Though the great unblinking eye of fiery Din still lay below the horizon, liquid spires of delicate pinks and golds slowly swirled from the eastern horizon into the navy embrace of the sleeping western sky. The shadows flowed, long and murky, across the grass of the ranch colored a deep green-brown by the darkness. The world was in the brief yet eternal ghostly bridge between sleep and reality, when most grope, half awake, for the semiforgotten warm mists of their dreams before emerging into cold wakefulness.

The Hero sighed, shifted his grip on the wrapped claymore, and with a weighted heart began the short walk around the well-house to where he knew Malon must be. He was not mistaken.

She knelt before the three graves, only one of which was marked with a tombstone. Her hair hung matted, limp, and greasy down her back; her nightgown was soiled and muddied from kneeling in the dew-laden grass and four days of straight use. Her thin frame was wracked with agonized yet soundless sobs. She didn't yet seem to be aware of Link's prescence.

For a brief moment he stood as though a marble statue, unsure if it was his place to comfort her or if she would reject him as an outsider in her grief. Finally he opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, to offer tired but sincere platitudes of sorrow or condolences, find some way to alleviate the redhead's pain, to tell her he would always be there like he had when they were but children; grief welled up, joined forces with sympathy and tightened his throat, stung his eyes. After a few pained seconds all he could choke out was, "Malon …"

In one grief-driven, jerky motion Malon rose, turned, and flew to Link, throwing her arms around him and burying her face into his shoulder. Link, surprised, returned the embrace after a brief, shocked hesitation and held her comfortingly as she cried into his shoulder. He knew she needed an anchor after the jarringly abrupt loss of her remaining family; he tried to remain steadfastly comforting as she cried—all restraint gone, big, hiccuping, loud, soul-wracking sobs that sliced Link's heart to ribbons more effectively than any razor-edged sword. All he could think to do as her grief washed over and mingled with his own at the loss of his friends was murmur, "I'm so, so sorry . . ."

Unknown to either grief-stricken friend, Ren stuck his head around the corner, looking for Kain or Link after being woken by the latter's leaving. Wisely realizing that it was not his place to interrupt or contribute, he quietly moved elseware.

After ten minutes of agonized tears Malon's sobs slowly became less monumental, until two minutes later they had been reduced to brief sniffles. Slowly she stepped back, eyes bloodshot and face covered with tears. Her eyes were downcast in grief and embarrassment. "Sorry . . . It's just—they were all I had left . . ." Her voice petered out as she looked behind her, to the only grave with a tombstone. Its brief inscription read "Maron Lon. Loving Mother."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Malon. They were your family," He almost said more, say that he understood her pain—he had lost a father in the Great Deku Tree's death; however, he doubted she would feel very comforted by the fact that he was comparing her lost family to his dead tree in terms of emotional anguish.

"Thanks, Link," she murmered with downcast eyes, still sniffling, before quickly and quietly walking off toward the house. He just stood there, feeling terrible in his inability to comfort her further in her sorrow.

--------

Ren poked his head around the corner, searching for Kain or Link after being awoken by the latter's leaving, and beheld the mourning two friends. Wisely realizing that it was not his place to interrupt or contribute, he silently moved toward the stables, where he thought Kain may be attending to his horse.

The red-gold armies of the sun overhead slowly consumed the navy blue of the western sky; by the time he reached the door to the stables the upper curve of the sun was just visible over the eastern horizon. The smooth, well-worn brass doorknob was cool against his leather-shelled palm as he stepped into the building. A familiar miasma of animal excrement, hay, and sweat met his nose; immediately he was transported back to the town stables of his home, a pleasant recollection soon ruined by the still-alien rememberance of his world's demise.

A number of stalls filled the large space, quite a few for a ranch operated, he gathered, by only three people. _Until_ it_ came_, he thought; now that woman—Malon, wasn't it?—was left by herself. _She's lucky to have escaped it with her life and wits roughly intact_. Straw lay in great bunches against the backs of the stalls, all but four of which were unoccupied. Small piles of dung littered the floor—apparently they hadn't been mucked out for a few days.

Their horses occupied four stalls tucked into the corner farthest from the door. Hearing his entrance, Kain turned from his administrations to his black mare to face Ren. Silver eyes studied blue-gray; after a moment he turned back to the horse. As Ren walked over to his own horse, he impulsively asked, "Do you always do that weird stare-down thing?"

" 'The eyes are the windows to the soul.' One can learn many things by searching someone's eyes, if he knows what to look for." Kain stepped back and leaned against the wall.

Ren grunted dismissively. "You talk like some philosophical aristocrat with a stick up his ass, all superior and refusing to give a straight answer. You know that?"

"You speak like a barely literate peasant. It isn't the words themselves that matter, but rather the thoughts they convey."

_I forgot; he's a bloody fountain of half-assed sayings_. He grunted again in acknowledgement, then blinked as he saw a dark purple-black gem the width of his hand attached to the horse's flesh above its eyes. "You _did_ get her out. I didn't notice in the bustle."

"Yes. But I do not feel it wise for her to show herself until I am guarenteed of our guide's reliability."

"What, the 'windows to the soul' not working for ya?"

With a sidelong glance he replied, "With matters of such importance I would prefer evidence over conjecture, however well-founded."

Ren was silent, then asked gravely, "Do you think he'll pull through?"

"Judging by the way he handled the possessed girl, he is not easily frightened or offput; he should do well."

"If he doesn't turn on us and try to throw us in the loony-bin."

Kain fixed Ren with eyes filled with deadly calm. "We _will_ get an audience. We _will_ convince his Queen, one way or the other."

"Are you sure it was such a good idea to tell him everything like that? You took a hell of risk there, you know." Red anger, finally free of his iron control, seeped into his voice. "It woulda helped to have talked with us first, Kain. You aren't on your own any more, just out for yourself and—" he pointed with his chin at the horse, who was watching the exchange with clear, intelligent, comprehending eyes, "_her_ anymore. We're all that's left, and what's more, this new world, whatever it may be, depends on us and how much he and his Queen trust us. Try to _think_ a little bit about that next time you do something rash like that, and at least give us a warning. We can't read your mind."

The larger man's silver eyes flashed. His voice was dangerously calm. "Do not think that I do not think before I speak, though it seems you do not. I know what is at stake here, and I do not intend to lose it. Besides, you of all people should not accuse others of acting rashly."

Ren colored slightly, but he refused to be cowed. "Don't—" he began.

"Bickering like starving mutts over scraps will do us no good. We are weak enough in numbers without being divided. Besides that, Reval Keshan is invading his home. He has a right to know."

He glared, but looked away, realizing the truth in the black-clad man's words. "Maybe."

Kain turned back to the horse. "I will not doubt you if you will return my faith."

"Mmm. Because you're so trusting." He didn't bother to mask his sarcasm.

"Skepticism is virtue that prolongs lives. Hypocrisy isn't."

"I'm skeptical—you're paranoid. No hypocrisy here."

_Full circle in only a minute. Remarkable._ Wisely Kain stepped away from the pointless and abrasive debate. "We will deal with problems as they arise. Until they do, we can do nothing but remain cautious and follow our guide to his Queen."

"Maybe we can recruit him, if he believes us," he began to walk back to the door, "because we're gonna need a lot of help to take down this thing," He froze with his hand on the knob. "Let's just hope this Queen of his is a little open-minded. It's gonna take a bit of persuasion to get her to see the situation."

"Leave that to me."

--------

The sun was low and young over the eastern horizon when all five occupants of the ranch met around the too-small kitchen table—_Thank the Goddesses we cleaned up the blood when we did—_for a simple breakfast of bread, milk, and dried beef. Malon would have felt obliged to provide a better meal for her unexpected guests, no matter her emotional state, but all of the livestock had somehow fled the ranch. As they began to eat, Link began with, "Malon, you have to know that we're all really sorry for—" the words hitched like a bone in his throat, and his eyes dropped to the table as he managed to regather his calm, "—for your loss, but if these three are to be believed, I need to get them to the Queen as soon as possible." The three mutely nodded their condolensces; Ren and Alva seemed sincere, but Kain was as cool and unreadable as he had been the day before. It was impossible to tell if he was acknowledging the former or latter of Link's points.

Before the forgotten hero could continue Malon cut in quietly, "When I woke up, Kain—that _is _your name, right? I'm a little fuddled right now—Kain told me about what you all need to do, to see the Queen about whatever . . . got me, or whatever it did." A revolted shudder passed through her; she could not remember what had happened since she woke three days ago, and the endless, horrible possibilities her imagination—her very vivid imagination—supplied did not bear thinking about. Link's eyes, however sharp, nearly missed the look that the outsider couple hurled as one towards Kain, who returned with a gaze that clearly said _Have patience, all will be shown in time and elsewhere_. "He also told me about your offer, Link. I guess there's really nothing to do but accept; without Dad and Ingo, there's nothing here but memories. I can restart business here . . . later." Her voice petered out. Suddenly Link knew that Malon would not be able to return to the ranch for a long, long time.

Respect and admiration for the farmgirl grew within him; she was prepared to walk, limping but upright, out of a disaster that would have left most people crushed, set on a self-destructive downward spiral into poverty and black dispair. "If you need it, I can get you an audience with the Queen as well, or at least ask on your part for food, lodging, and a loan to keep you on your feet." He smirked, "I'm kinda gonna be in the neighborhood anyway, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem."

He could tell she was going to object out of pride, but she visibly bit down the reaction in light of the reality that she was going to need any and all the aid she could get. His estimation of her rose another notch. "Thanks," she said simply.

Another awkward silence descended as they ate. Link wanted to ask the three exhempt from their conversation what the thing that had attacked Malon was supposed to do next, but he didn't know what Kain had told her, and didn't want to include her in something that could end up being an isolated phenomenom, the three strangers' business, or risk opening sore wounds. That would have to wait until she was out of earshot.

All five finished eating, but still did not dare break the quiet; all of them fidgeted slightly except for Kain, who sat as cool and unruffled as ever. If anything Link had to admire his self-control.

Finally Alva broke it, as she had the night before. "We _are_ very sorry about your loss, Malon. We've lost a few loved ones ourselves in the past few days. If you need anything, just ask me or these two," she gestured to her fellow strangers, "and we'll do whatever we can."

Malon heard real sadness and regret in her voice, almost as if the woman felt responsible for whatever that thing had done to her in the last three blank days of her memory. "Thanks. I'll be sure to do that."

Another blank space; Ren eventually spoke, "Well, I really hate to break up this amazing conversation—really, Kain, the way you use twelve sixteen-syllable words where three simple ones would suffice is amazing—but I think we all need to be off and running to see the Queen."

"Yeah," Link concurred, "I guess we do."

Malon stood up, chairlegs scraping against hardwood. "If you four can get the horses ready, I can get changed. Link should know where the stores are if you need extra supplies." He nodded, then lead the three others to the door while Malon ascended the stairs to her room.

--------

The four and their respective horses were ready and waiting at the gate a quarter of a hour later. Link unlocked the large padlock and unwound the chain with the key from the day before; he had secured the gates after admitting Epona last night, not wanting to run the risk of a theives' raid. As he hauled the chains off to the side, dropping them in a rattling cascade of steel, Ren looked up and said, "Doesn't look like it'll rain, at least."

The sky was clear, shaping up to be another beautiful day on the plains, but Link knew from long experience how quickly that could change from pristine blue skies to bruised clouds pregnant with rain. "The weather here is fickle. Don't bet on being dry the entire way." Ren shoved open the gates with a grunt; the hinges squealed like pigs being led to the slaughter. _Nothing to brighten any fine morning like a few happy similes, folks_, Link thought. "It looks like the Reval Keshan thing let the animals out instead of just 'consuming' them." It was _very _hard to resist making air quotes on "consuming," but the grass was indeed trampled flat by a legion of hooves, stamped flat enough that the tracks were still visible after four days. "Why?"

Kain's eyes darkened with thought. "I would guess that it took control of them and is using them as carriers to spread to towns, to people it can manipulate with more efficiency."

"And then it locked up again, put the key back on its hook in the stables and waited? Why didn't it just send all three people on horses to the towns, instead of killing two and keeping the other here? And why Malon? She's fairly tough, but the other two men would have seemed better choices if it was looking for a killer puppet." He was amazed and sickened at how cold he sounded, talking about friends alive and dead as though they were pawns in some twisted game of chess.

"Again, I can only guess at its motivations—"

"Your friends defer to you as the expert on it, and I've only seen it once."

"Yes, I do have the most experience with it, I suppose. Regardless, I believe it planned to use the ranch as a trap; if it was a relatively successful venture, then it would be able to ensnare and kill any customers and then take their forms as well, probably with less risk to its host than taking on an entire town or village." _If I sound cold, he sounds like a damn iceberg_.

"Sounds cheery."

Ren said, "Oh, you thought _her _knocking you around was bad? She was still alive. This thing has a bad habit of twisting things—corpses—around into new, ugly shapes that don't die easy. Or it just takes the dead meat and molds it into something completely new, or something it remembers from the past. I saw three people melt together into a giant minotaur with an axe. _That_ was not fun."

It sounded insane . . . but so did his adventures when told to a "normal" person. They could be telling the truth. They could be insane. But he had seen it, seen what it had done to Malon, her father, and Ingo, felt it nearly knock his head off his shoulders—his chin was swollen and would soon turn every color of the rainbow. Or they were supplying the magic and leading him on a wild goose chase with sickening consequences. Or . . . _There's a thousand possibilities, and no way to prove or disprove any of them_.

So.

He'd give them the benefit of the doubt for now and fulfill his word; judgement would be reached after consulting Zelda. She did, after all, hold the Triforce of Wisdom. He could only remember her making one grave mistake—_Oh, yeah, that teeny-tiny little thing that got Ganondorf's filthy hands on the triforce, forced me into becoming _"The Hero,"_ and very nearly destroyed Hyrule. Clean slate apart from that. The problem is, she doesn't make many small mistakes like most people; she saves 'em up, bundles them into one massive "Oh shit I just destroyed my kingdom" screw up_. Link sighed. _Whatever, I gave my word. Can't hurt just to let them talk to her, can it? _

_Unless they're assassins. In that case I suppose I'll try to come to the rescue. Again._

_Of course, there's hundreds of easier and less outlandish excuses to get an audience with the Queen, so that's not really that plausible. Goddesses, if I keep trying to think like this my brains will run out my nostrils._

Cheery thoughts; cheery thoughts indeed.

That left the other question. "How much did you tell Malon?"

"Most of what I told you."

"Most?"

"I told her about it consuming our world, how it travelled here and we followed. I did not, however, tell her that she probably was the one that killed her family. It did not seem . . . right to say such a thing when she is grieving."

Link nodded. "I can thank you for that, at least." _She's taking it pretty well . . . then again, she does have first hand experience with it. To say the least._

Just as he was beginning to think that Malon had fallen asleep or something similar—with a girl like Malon, you never really knew—he saw her walking towards them from the three graves. Her eyes were dry and focused; she was taking the loss of the rest of her family surprisingly well. She wore a simple cream-colored blouse and a pair of leather riding pants well suited to long days in the saddle, with accompanying boots. Link noticed a full quiver and unstrung bow slung across her back much like his own. "I didn't know you knew how to shoot a bow."

"I learned after you left."

"Ah." _It's been a while since I've been home; it's gonna be interesting to see what else has changed_.

_Hopefully for the better_.

"I'm riding with you, I guess? The horses and everything are gone."

"Yeah, guess so." _Try not to sound so dry-mouthed, asshole_, he thought viciously at himself; Ren smirked as he and the others mounted their horses. "Something funny?" The horses and their riders moved through the gates, which Malon locked and chained as soon as they were through. Link tossed her the key, which she slipped into her pocket.

"Nope, nothing much," he replied. Link would ignore him admirably for the next fifteen minutes.

Link mounted Epona; Malon followed, slipping an arm around his waist to haul herself up, then removing it and holding the saddle instead. He didn't know if he felt dissappointed or relieved.

Encloaked in yet another awkward silence, the tenuous party of five set out for the castle.

Unfortunately, this trip would not be as peaceful as Link's last.

--------

They had made good time, Link thought at dusk. _I wasn't sure if we were going to make it to Dinsc today, but it shouldn't be far now. Warm food and soft bedding awaits._

There had not been much talk. Their little entourage was subconsciously divided into two groups; Malon and Link in one, the rest in the other. What little conversations there were to be had were held inside of the two, but not between them; halfway through the day all talk was stifled as they all regressed into their thoughts.

They continued to ride on until the upper rim of the sun finally slipped below the purple-tinted plains to the west. Black night began its inexorable march across the sky. Noting the sunset, Link addressed the group, placing himself as navigator. "We have two options: camp here for the night, or continue on towards the village of Dinsc ahead."

Kain asked, "How long would it take to reach the village?"

"Another hour or so." Malon nodded her agreement behind him; this was the route she had taken many times with her father to deliver goods to the castle.

Ren said, "I say we do it. Clean sheets and hot food sound good after all we've—" he gestured to Alva, Kain, and himself "—been through in the last hellish month or so." Everyone voiced their agreement.

"I guess we're in agreement, then," Link replied, " 'cause you never know what you'll meet at night on the field, friendly or not." He did not mention the strange creatures that had assaulted him in the forest to the east. It did not seem necessary to worry anyone further.

True to Link's word, Kain spotted the low, black hump on the horizon by moonlight roughly a hour and a quarter later. It became visible to the rest of them within another five minutes; they unconsciously but simultaneously increased their pace to a steady trot. _He's got sharp eyes_, Link thought appreciably.

As they drew closer Kain suddenly called for a halt. "What?" Link asked, keeping his voice clear of impatience.

"If we can get here in a day, so can your livestock," indicating Malon, "carrying _it_."

The farmgirl asked, "The thing that, uh, got me?"

"Yes."

Link frowned. "So we may be walking into a trap." He contemplated trying to exorcize an entire village, a hundred people or more. It didn't seem possible.

Alva, reading his expression, tried to reassure him, "Look, we've delt with this kind of thing before." She left out the fact that then they had had five times their current number. "It doesn't waste its time keeping these people alive. They're essentially walking corpses—puppets, killable but relatively hardy. And don't think of your stereotypical zombie; these guys are fast and strong.

"Don't hesitate to strike and kill. They're already dead, past saving."

Link's frown remained, but she could see an unwelcome responsibility lift its weight from his shoulders. "So there isn't much hope of finding survivors."

"Well . . ." Her eyes dropped.

Ren took her stead, "There's no way to know for sure until we're there . . . but its not likely." He grimaced as though he had a bad taste in his mouth.

"But there's still hope." Link's voice swelled with determination. "We're going to check. All of us."

"That would not be a good idea," Kain interjected slowly.

"You were wrong last time. Maybe you're wrong this time."

"That is a fool's argument."

"Then I'm a fool, but I have to know if I can help these people." Kain seemed to be about to reply, but Link burst out, "Look, you need me to get to the Queen, right?"

"We can't get there if you are dead."

"I'll take care of myself. I have enough experience _there_, lemme tell you."

"And her?"

Link flinched; he had forgotten about Malon, who sat apprehensively behind him. "I'll take care of her too. If we stick together, we'll be good enough. Either way, we're going through. You need me," he repeated, "and perhaps they're fine, and we can get food and lodging. Perhaps they're not, and we can still scavenge some supplies."

"And if it is a trap?"

"Then _we'll_ deal with it."

Kain scowled. "You do not give us much of a choice, do you?"

"Let's go." A moment later, however, he called for another halt. "Wait. Malon, get off for a second, 'kay?"

Malon slid smoothly from the saddle; Link followed, then pulled his bow and string from the quiver and strung it. "You may want to do the same."

Not dimwitted enough to question his experience, Malon strung her bow, though not quite as smoothly as Link. He replaced his own back in the quiver, but gave a quick shake of the head when she moved to mirror him. "Keep it out, just to be safe." He gestured to Epona. "Up you go. If something bad happens, get out of here but circle the town until one of us comes to get you."

"You're not riding?"

"Trust me here, 'kay?" Malon nodded gravely, and Link started walking alongside Epona towards the village boundary.

"Oh, and a good thing to remember if you need to be, uh, cautious, is to take three arrows—" Malon plucked three from her quiver and handed them to him "—and stick'em here so you can reach'em better." He stuck the arrows between one of the straps that secured the saddlebags and the saddle, leaving them close at hand. "Helps out a lot if you think you're gonna run into a sticky situation."

"Thanks, Link. I'm kinda out of my element here."

"You'll catch on. Everyone does." _Or they die in the saddle with their blood soaking the dirt. But ya don't want to tell her _that_, now, do ya, Mr. Sensitive?_

Simple one-story wooden thatched-roof dwellings squatted along the narrow dirt streets, becoming in the darkness slumbering giants eager to pounce on and devour unsuspecting passerby if awakened. The night was growing cold; his breath flared into small clouds of cold silver emanating rhythmically from his mouth and those of his strange companions. It was deathly quiet; the muffled _clop-clop_ of the horses, the rustles and clicks of his clothes and armament, his heartbeat—all seemed deafening in that unholy quiet. It was the cold, still, silent air of a cemetary whose disturbed occupants slowly rose to 'greet' with sweet death their intruders. . . . _Shut up_, he commanded himself, _shut up or you'll start jumping at shadows like a superstitious little fool_. _Of course it's bound to be silent; it's—_

_It's only an hour after sunset, and there's no one to be found. Even the Kokiri children are still up at this hour. Oh, shit, this _was_ a bad idea—_ Yet the stubborn part of his mind, the unrelenting but half-blind determination that had led him to perservere through many a seemingly hopeless conflict lulled, _Don't be foolish. See it through and laugh at yourself later_.

"This," said Ren, "is a mistake."

"We'll see it through." Link saw that the man only held the reins with one hand; the other gripped slackly the hilt of his sword, ready to pull it free at a moment's notice.

No light was shed by torches or fireplaces to illuminate the inside of the dirtied windows that peered from the sides of the streets; it was as though all of the villagers had stood up simultaneously and left, leaving everything behind them for the five travellers.

They reached the village square, little more than a wide dirt clearing amidst the meager wood of the houses. At the opposite end of the square lay a small inn nestled among the even smaller houses, the only two-story structure they had seen so far. It, too, was dark and silent.

The four on horseback stopped in the center of the heart of the village; Link alone walked up to the sleeping—_forever sleeping?_—inn. His hair rose as he neared it; the second story window seemed to stare at him with a gaze of yearning—a gaze that spoke of a hidden, voracious hunger. Goosebumps prickled his flesh; a feeling like a cold, rotting, slime-covered hand slid up and down his spine in a sick parody of a lover's caress.

_This is not right_, he thought again. But still he proceeded onward, heard the aging boards groan and sigh beneath his booted feet as he crossed the wooden patio. One hand crept up to hold his sword handle; the other curled into a fist and knocked on the door.

It creaked open under the force of his knuckles. Deeper blackness awaited inside. _Oh, no_, some isolated, sardonic corner of his mind smirked. _The classic horror novel hook_. _I thought life didn't use such cheap clichès_.

He stepped slowly, tentavely inside. "Hello?"

He had passed through the doorway and was fully inside when it attacked.

The door crashed into him from the side, sending him flying across the room, and slammed shut—he was cut off from his allies. Airborne, he felt his hip smack against something hard and he heard something clatter, glass shattering—_a table? _he thought absently. The impact spun him in midair; he landed on his back, felt his head whip against the wooden floor with a hollow _thok!_ and skidded for two feet until his momentum was stopped by a hard wooden pole. _Table leg?_

Three _thump_s met his ears, then momentary silence. Link dazedly felt his hand scuttle for his sword—

A crash; the table over him was sent flying to the side, then something heavy and cold landed on him and drove out his breath. He felt something—_oh, goddesses, it's cold and dead and it's a something that used to be a someone like Malon but now it's dead and it wants me dead too—_change it position on him, kneeling on his stomach. He couldn't draw breath beneath its cold, dead weight, couldn't grab his weapons or his sword. Link saw for the first time a set of glowing red eyes above him gleaming with hatred and savage glee; a cold hand gripped his tunic, held him fast as a strong fist crashed into his nose hard enough to draw blood and whip his head against the floor again. Another punch caused his lip to bleed, then both hands screwed tight around his throat, cutting off his air further; it shook him vicously, cracking his head repeatedly against the floor. Link beat furiously at his attacker, but to no effect; it simply shrugged off the pain. It wasn't content strangling him; it had to break his neck first.

He hadn't even had time to yell to alert his companions.

--------

The door crashed into Link from the side, sending him flying into the darkness of the inn and shutting him off from his allies.

"Oh, shit! I told you so, asshole!"

Ren ripped his sword free of its sheath and leapt from his horse. He began to sprint towards the inn. Kain roared, "No!"

The glass of the second-story window exploded into the night with a rippling crash. The shards glittered with an obscene beauty as they reflected the moonlight and shone like a thousand falling stars. A burly possessed villager in peasant's garb, bearded and swarthy, flew through the recently vacated window with a rusty hatchet raised above its head; it gibbered as it plummeted to earth directly towards Ren.

He swiftly sidestepped both possessed corpse and hatchet and stabbed his sword through its throat. Relatively little blood dripped from the wound, which had pierced the jugular; there was no heart pumping cold blood through decaying veins. Ren pulled the red-streaked blade clear of its flesh, and it groaned, fell over, and died, the second "life" of servitude provided by Reval Keshan over. He shouted over his shoulder, "Stay here, watch for more! I'll get Link!"

Ren ran the five strides to the door, twisting the handle and driving his shoulder into the wood without stopping. With a surprised _oof_ he bounced off ineffectively.

The door was barred. Strongly, as his shoulder could attest.

With a curse he began to kick the door down—then the rest of the village began their attack.

Alva was able to cry, "Incoming!" and then they were upon them.

The posessed corpses flooded from the buildings surrounding the square, pouring out of every door, flying through every window, emerging from every alley between the houses. Like a hellish cloud of buzzards diving to feast upon a crippled, dying traveler they swarmed towards the square, unarmed or with simple tools in hand. With a horrified gasp Malon stared at the murderous red shine in their eyes and the black tendrils of Reval Keshan twisting beneath their skin like an internal parody of some macabre marionette's strings.

She heard the near-simultaneous _shiicks_ of Alva and Kain pulling their swords free, and she was able to pull an arrow from where Link had secured them minutes earlier. "Get out of here! Circle the town until we come get you!" Alva yelled to her.

Malon wheeled Epona around, meaning to escape to the right of the oncoming mass of villagers—but it was blocked by a wall of the rushing possessed. Left—the same.

They were trapped.

--------

Link's lungs burned for want of air. With one hand he pulled at the hands holding his throat; with the other he landed a barrage of punches on his attacker, still unseen except for its blood red eyes. His head was wracked with pain as it bounced off of the floor repeatedly; the scalp on the back of his head split open and blood seeped into his hair.

Distantly he heard something smash repeatedly against the door, but he realized that he could not rely on his comrades breaking down the door in time to save him; before long this thing would snap his neck, then wait to get the drop on the would-be saviors. He could not let that happen.

He couldn't reach his sword or equipment, as they were pinned securely beneath him. That left his fists . . . which did not seem to be doing much right now. He had not thought to put on his strength-enhancing Golden Guantlets before being ambushed like some naïve kid on his first trip from daddy's farm.

Ceasing his frantic beating, Link cocked his arm back, then swung with all the strength rage and desperation could muster for the right eye that hung suspended over him like a murderous Cheshire cat. He saw it flinch away a split second too late. His knuckles broke what felt like the thing's jaw with a wet _crack_ amplified by his lack of vision; the fingers slackened on his throat.

It was an opportunity he would not squander. With a silent snarl contorting his face Link snatched its thick wrists and pulled and twisted its wrists away from his neck. He sucked in welcome air as best he could while squeezed beneath the corpse's weight, then clenched his jaws against a hoarse cough. If he let go of those wrists the hands would return to his throat and resume his strangulation—not a prospect he welcomed.

Keeping his hands clamped around its wrists his shoved back into its chest. He felt its weight slide backward form chest to stomach to pelvis. _Goddesses, don't let them come in with me in this position!_ he thought irreverently. He felt his abs tighten as he sat up, simultaneously pulling his attacker forward into a vicous headbut. He aimed low purposefully and was rewarded as his head hit the thing's broken jaw and twisted it through the flesh of its jowls. It howled; Link ground his teeth and hissed, "_Ffffffuuuuck!_" as his much abused head rang stridently.

Link managed to remain upright while it recoiled backward. He shoved it again, sending it lurching off of him and onto its back. Letting go of its wrists he yanked his sword free of its scabbard and kicked it savagely back down as it tried to sit up. Holding his sword blade downward like an assassin's dagger he bunched his legs beneath him and lunged for the bloody eyes; the sword stabbed down as the door burst open with a splintering crash.

The sparse moonlight from the open door glimmered off his blade as the tip sheared through flesh and bone to embed itself in the floor beneath. As with Ren's kill surprisingly little blood seeped form the wound, though it went straight between those horrible red eyes . . . which, he noticed, slowly darkned to a brown turned milky with death as the black tendrils writhed and faded into nothing beneath pudgy skin.

Link glanced at Ren standing in the doorway then stood up, massaging his throat and skull. He planted his boot on the corpse and pulled his sword free. "Kinda late," he grunted.

The other man didn't bother quipping, "better late than never;" he scowled, then aid impatiently, "Come on, it's an ambush—we need to get out of here."

_Malon!_ Link thought, then wiped blood from his nose and lip. "Let's go."

The night had become a battleground. Gutteral growls ground from the villagers' throats as they tried to beat, bludgeon, axe, impale, or slice their victoms to death. Blood turned the dirt to brackish mud. Malon, Alva, and Kain fought from horseback, the inn at their flanks; Alva covered the left, Kain the right, while Malon poured arrows into the crowd with a panicked speed. Ren's horse, well trained in combat and sensing danger, held its own and cracked skulls with deadly kicks. The two leapt into their respective saddles, Link clinging to Malon as Epona reared and stove in a villager's head, Ren taking a defensive position in front of the vulnerable duo. "We can't keep this up!" he cried over the din, "We've got to find a way out of here!"

Kain roared back, "I can't just cut through all of them as I once could, and we cannot charge through them all without being ripped from the saddle!"

Link's eyes brightened. "I have an idea!" He pulled two spheres of black ceramic from a pouch at his belt. "Ren, get behind us!" His thumb brushed over their short fuses; with a sighing fizzle they sparked into ignition. _Foour seconds_. "Malon," he shouted, "when I say to, ride into the smoke."

"What smoke?"

He arched back and hurled the bombs into the crowd just in front of them and bellowed, "Follow our lead!"

Two flashes ruined his night vision, accompanied by a duo of _crump_s; blood and bodies flew. Two small clouds of smoke obscured all sight before them. Almost before the flying villagers returned to the ground he cried, "_Now!_"

Epona sprang forward at Malon's command, dissappearing into the smoke; their three companions followed. Link had counted on the flashes, smoke, and shrapnel dissorienting the mass of the possessed long enough to grant passage, but they were already regaining their feet. As they came to the cleared miniature craters Link said, "Wait, but keep shooting, Mal." He held two more bombs, lit and waiting.

The bombs soared forward, their flights of death marked only by the low fizzing of their fuses. He managed to make out the others in the smoke, hacking at any villagers who emerged through the smoke obscuring their ongoing escape. _Good_.

The bombs exploded. Something large and dripping flew past his head. Cold blood splashed across his cheek. _Holy shit, was that an arm?_ "Now!"

They surged forwared another ten feet; two more bombs already lay cupped and sparking in his palms. Link could see the possessed villagers already climbing awkwardly to their feet, skin blacked and cracked, hair charred away, clothes smoldering; murder burned bright in bloody eyes. They had recover faster that time, less surprised by the blasts. The rabble was catching on to his tactics.

_This is it_, he thought to himself. He lobbed the black explosives forward.

Two more crumps; two more flashes. More bodies flew.

"_Go go go! Get out of here!_"

He held on to Malon's waist as the four horses burst into a gallop. With his free hand he pulled his sword free—he had been forced to sheathe it to throw the bombs. There was a wind at their backs, pushing the smoke along with them, prolonging their lack of sight—and that of their enemies.

Mere seconds later they emerged through the wall of smoke to find a barrier of flesh. The possessed villagers stood shoulder to shoulder, four deep, hoping to block them through sheer numbers. Malon knew as well as he of their predicament; if they slowed they would be trapped, ripped from the saddle and butchered like cattle. She spurred Epona on faster and tightened her grip on the reigns. All Link could do was cling to her waist and hope for the best.

At the last second—perhaps realizing that the oncoming riders had no intention of stopping—the villagers dove for the horses, a hellish cacophany of snarling cries ripping from their throats like sandpaper drawn across splintered bone. With none of the terrible majesty but all of the power of a great tsunami they hurtled forward, clawing at all they could, trying to trip the horses or pull their riders to the ground.

The powerful horse that had borne him onward through uncounted hells did not fail Link now. Epona plowed through their rabid, bloodthirsty ranks without faltering, trampling them beneath steelshod hooves or sending them flying in every which direction. As they burst through to the other side one greasy-looking villager grabbed Malon's leg in a vicelike grip. Link brought the pommel of his custom sword down sharply on its skull; with a strangely hollow _thok_ and a groan the possessed corpse let go and was trampled beneath them. "Keep going," he called into her ear. "We're nearly there."

Glancing back he saw the other three burst free of the possessed throng more or less intact—and the screaming villagers begin to give chase. They ran fast—faster than Link thought possible—but not fast enough, as a minute later the riders burst from the hellish confines of the village with the inhabitants over three hundred yards behind. Link tapped Malon on the shoulder and said, "We're going the wrong way, back the way we came. We need to circle around the village and head the opposite way."

Malon acknowledged him with a nod and pulled Epona into a smooth curve that would take them around the village while keeping them a safe distance from its borders and another ambush. The other three riders caught up witht them and pulled alongside until they rode abreast of each other.

As they rode Link called to Kain over the rapid drumming of the horses, "How long will they chase us?"

"Until dawn, when they will return to the shade of their homes to find shelter from the heat of the sun. They will want to slow decay as much as possible so they may remain useful in ambushes to Reval Keshan."

Link was silent a moment, then asked, "They will know what direction we're going. They'll try to beat us to the Queen, or kill us en route."

"Constant vigillance shall keep us intact." _He doesn't sound so sure of himself now_, Link couldn't help thinking.

"Either way we lead them to a city full of innocents as well as to the most powerful ruler of Hyrule. We are showing it to the doorstep of the most prosperous city in Hyrule, showing it where to strike."

"It will find the Queen eventually, probably within two weeks. If the city is not prepared it will be crushed. This way we give them a chance."

They slowed slightly when they reached the other side of the village, though they still rode faster than a sprinting man; there was a sizeable gap between them and their pursuers. The horses would be exhausted by dawn, but there was no help for it; they lacked the numbers to deal with the mob if they caught up with them, and they could not risk being incapacitated and unable to warn the Queen of the threat to Hyrule.

As the long, monotonous night wore on Link slowly began to realize that he believed their tale. He had seen what the "black matter" had done with his own eyes—had felt it, too, and had bruises to prove it—and had heard Malon speak under its influence in a voice not her own. The only being he thought could orchestrate such a thing would be Ganondorf, and he remained locked securely in the Sacred Realm. _Besides_, he thought with a shudder, _if Kain isn't lying then this thing is more powerful than even the _"dark king."

_Now there's a happy thought to dwell on_.

--------

Dawn eventually came, though it brought the travellers no respite. Despite their weariness they pressed on, a veil of exhaustion smothering all conversation and fraying tempers. The horses were exhausted after riding all day and all night. In response to this the travellers alternated walking and riding, hoping to cover more land. All of them felt that they would not be safe until they reached the protection of the Queen.

Malon was affected the most. The farmgirl was used to long days of work on the ranch, but twenty-four hours and counting of riding and fighting was taking its toll. "Why," she asked, "are we still going? Kain said that daylight is the safest time for us. Shouldn't we use that to sleep?"

Link replied as he had when she had asked the same question earlier. "Because we want to pass by the next town in daylight, when there's a smaller chance of an ambush. Time is of the essence, Malon. Hyrule could literally be at stake."

He tried to keep his weariness to himself, as he had learned to do over his travels. This was not as bad as many stunts he had been forced to pull, but thinking that did not make him feel any better. The thought of the things in pursuit, both from behind and ahead of them, drove him onward. Besides that, as Ren had said the day before, the prospect of hot food and clean sheets was quite a motivator.

With any luck Castle Town would appear on the horizon within the next two days. Even exhausted as they were they were covering quite a bit of ground. Around midday they passed around strips of dried beef and drank from their water skins. They did not stop. Link was constantly searching for tracks similar to the things that had attacked him when he was travelling home, but he did not find anything that seemed similar to what he remembered.

The day was especially hot, which did nothing to improve their spirits. The occaisonal tree or fence in the distance seemed to shimmer as though viewed from underwater. Rarer than those were the occaisonal small clusters of houses too small to be called even villages. They avoided these as much as possible, none of them feeling eager to have an encore of their earlier escapade. Progress was slow, but safety was foremost in their minds; they had to be alive and intact, or at least able to reach the city and convey their warning and their supplications to the Queen.

The five saw the next town two hours after their sparse lunch. This detour was the longest and most tiresome by far; regardless of Kain's reassurances no one wished to risk being spotted and attacked. They rode in a massive semicircle, keeping enough land between their small party and the town borders for the latter to appear no larger than a small, brown lump on the horizon. Link kept his eyes on this lump, searching for a smaller dot that would signify an attacking force but seeing nothing. By late evening the town was swallowed up by the southern horizon, their detour complete; without its forbidding presence all five felt relieved, as though a small portion of the weight upon their shoulders was lifted.

An hour after the town dissappeared behind them night fell. Thirty-six hours after they had set out from Lon Lon Ranch the five pitched camp. Ren made a simple meal out of a few rabbits they had caught along the way. Kain voluntarily took first watch as the four others fell into an exhausted sleep.

--------

During the night Link would have sworn that he heard the voices of a man and woman lowered in hushed conversation. All he could remember specifically was the unfamilliar woman's voice, slightly louder than the man's. The thick gray curtains of sleep muffled his eyes and ears; he could not place any words apart from several honorifics such as _lord_ and _master_.

He was not woken for his turn at watch.

--------

Link woke second the next mornng slightly perturbed that he had not been woken for his turn at watch duty, which had been the unanimous agreement the night before. Kain was already awake, his bedding squared away and any remnants of sleep scrubbed from his face and manner. They ignored each other for a minute; Link stared at the still-dark but slowly lightening sky while Kain patiently sat on the cool grass. When he felt that he was awake as he was going to get within the next hour Link said, "You never passed on the watch. Why?"

Kain glanced at him, giving Link that same feeling of being measured, tested, judged. "You were all tired. I took the watch as a favor to all of you."

Link was surprised. He had expected to hear an excuse or frank admittance of falling asleep. _Lying or not, let's let him slide on this one. If he is hiding something, it may be for good reason._ He surprised himself there, both for making excuses for someone else and wanting to believe them. Perhaps against his better judgement he could feel himself slowly beginning to trust these strange foreigners. _Careful, Mr. Hero,_he thought, _letting your guard down early—or at all—is gonna get you burned. I still don't know these people_. "That's . . . nice, but unnecessary. We should share the watch tomorrow, keep the workload even for everone's sake."

A long, evaluating stare. "I suppose that would be best."

The Hero squirmed out of his bedding and began to dress while packing. "So," he said, halfheartedly trying to make conversation while simultaneously trying to wake the others, "you didn't sleep at all last night? After thirty-six hours of travel and fighting, after your entire world was destroyed you don't feel like sleeping?"

"I do not require as much sleep as most."

"Apparently," he muttered. _Whatever. I'll just stay awake during his shift tonight . . . see if he's as genuine as he's claiming to be_.

Malon woke with the sun; a short minute later the other two also rose from the mists of sleep. The three began to pack, rubbing sleep from their eyes. The chill morning and the receding yet palpable grasp of slumber choked any conversation. After a short breakfast they set out again.

The day passed nearly identically to the post-ambush traveling had the day before. They did not have to shift between walking and riding, thankfully, and covered much more ground. An hour after they set out Link noticed Malon's bloodshot eyes. "Didn't sleep well?" he asked quietly.

She began to shake her head, but admitted, "Yeah," with downcast eyes. "Bad dreams about, uh, the ranch and all."

Thinking it imprudent to continue Link shifted his attention back to the fields. He was not going to be caught off guard again.

The day passed slowly; progress was faster than before, with fewer detours. The only one of note was around Olan, a large town that seemed unnaturally still and quiet despite the openness of the warm evening. No words passed their lips as long as the wood and brick of its buildings were visible, but as it dissappeared behind them the talk gradually resumed its flow like it had the day before.

Eventually the sun dipped below the lands to the west and star-studded night fell across the fields. Again they pitched their small camp, arranging their bedrolls around the small cooking fire, eating rabbit and talking amongst themselves. When they chose to retire a while later Link volunteered for first watch; as the rest buried themselves in their blankets against the frosty night air Link sat with his sword at his side and his back to the fire, ever vigilant.

After a little more than an hour of keeping the fire alive with dead grass and staring into the dark and empty expanse of the night Link crawled over to Kain and gently shook his shoulder. The big man snapped awake. Wordlessly Link indicated the fire and a small stack of dried grass, then crawled back to his bedding and burrowed down into its warm, scratchy embrace. He was asleep in minutes.

--------

As with before, sometime during the night Link faintly heard whispers; he could not be sure even of the sexes of the speakers. Unconsciously he pulled his blankets closer about himself and sank deeper into sleep.

--------

The next three days of travel passed essentially identically.

On the seventh and final day the five awoke to find the sky covered by a uniform steely gray cloud layer; the heavens seemed drained of their lighthearted azul, leaving only this stern, blank face overhead. As they mounted their horses Malon commented, "It'll rain today, looks like."

"Thank the heavens if it does," Alva joked. "We haven't had a chance to clean ourselves for nearly on month now. Ren stinks."

"Hey, you don't exactly smell very ladylike either, missus of mine," he replied.

"Watch it, boy. Insulting ladies'll get your ass kicked."

"Malon agrees with me. Don't you, Mal?"

The redhead looked down her nose at him. "For your information, it is in your best interests to never, _ever_ say anything but sugar about a woman if you value your good health." Then, cooly to Alva, "I'll hold his arms for ya."

"C'mon, Link'll back—"

He chuckled sardonically, "I'm not dying for you."

Ren adopted a face of comic horror. "Traitor!"

They had found that it was essentially impossible to not get to know each other over a week of hard travel toward a common goal. Ren and Alva complemented each other perfectly, yet at times seemed exact opposites, more like brother and sister than husband and wife. Kain remained ever solemn. He often remained quiet, though it seemed to be in his nature instead of him just being cold and aloof.

The aforementioned man asked, "We are close, are we not?"

"Yeah," Link replied. "We should get to Castle Town in a few hours."

Malon said, "Let's hurry up, then. I've only been in the castle a few times."

And so they rode on. As they grew steadily closer to the city of Castle Town the sky grew steadily darker, thick with bruised and swollen clouds. Cold winds whipped across the fields with enough force to make them squint and lean against them. Goosebumps rippled across their skin as the cold sliced effortlessly through garb and flesh alike to chill them to their cores. "This is gonna be one mother of a storm," Link commented three hours later. "Looks like it's only getting worse the further we go on."

As soon as he shut his mouth a fat raindrop as big as the tip of his thumb landed with an audible _pit_ on the bridge of his nose. He blinked and muttered, "Speak of the devil, here it comes. . . ." And then as suddenly as someone had flipped a switch the deluge came, driven at an angle into their faces by the wind, pounding against their lowered heads and shoulders like an army of miniscule blacksmiths' hammers. Within a minute they were soaked to the skin, shivering violently. Water slipped through their clothes, sluicing down their skin and pouring off their bodies like miniature waterfalls, sliding into their eyes and up noses and mouths; a curtain of water obscured their vision and made all sight impossible beyond a few feet. The downpour drummed, rattled, splashed, and roared all around them, deafening them. Their horses increased their pace at no orders from their riders, eager to be out of the rain. Pale, vibrant flashes of lightning briefly lit up the landscape, leaving a frozen image on the five's eyes before the rippling roar of the thunder managed to pierce the rumbling pounding of the rain.

For another half hour they rode haphazardly through the cascade. The weather now was truly a theif: it robbed them of their warmth, stole their sight, snatched away their hearing, their comfort, even their air—every breath came laced with raindrops no matter how they attempted to shield their airways.

They did not manage to see the city walls until they very nearly fell into the moat. Link cried, "Woah!" and pulled back the reins just in time—Epona's hooves slid through the newly formed but thick mud and stopped less than a foot from the edge. Malon nearly fell off but managed to retain her hold on Link. The moat stretched to the right and left of them, twenty feet wide and half that in depth. Its surface rippled, splashed, and jumped beneath the heavy liquid bombardment from the heavens. On its opposite bank stood the wall, twenty feet high and five thick, encompassing the entire city as well as the castle. The white stone was devoid of any handholds, impossible to climb without ladders or grappling hooks. Link could not see or hear any sentries patrolling the ramparts through the shuddering veils of rain obscuring his senses.

He dimly heard Alva cry, "_There!_" He followed her pointing finger to the lowered drawbridge just twenty feet to their right. As one the horses galloped towards and across it; they skidded to a halt beneath the arch of the wall, protected from the rain by the stone overhead.

"We're close," he called over the now-muted rumble of the downpour, "we're very close. C'mon, let's go." He did not voice the question that was on all of their minds: _Are we too late?_

He squeezed Epona's sides with his heels, and she trotted back into the rain; any faster on the slicked stones paving the road would likely end with them falling over. Through the rain they spotted the ghosts of closed merchants' stalls and stone buildings. They rode a beeline on the road bisecting the city; it would lead them straight through the Square at the city's center and take them directly to the castle just outside the city borders.

Link could not see much as he rode through the pelting rain. No one walked the streets, with good reason. Vague silhouettes of buildings drifted past them on the grand road, easily forty feet wide. It opened into the Square, normally bustling at this time of day with people of all shapes, sizes, ages, races; only abandoned booths and the overflowing fountain at the center of the Square stood now. The Square narrowed again into the grand road, leading due north; they followed it, then passed through the raised portcullis dividing the city from the castle.

Now the road curved to the right; to their left, still encompassed in the great span of the walls, lay the Castle Field. Well-trimmed hedges, trees, shrubs, flowers, and more ornamented this beautiful buffer between the city and the castle. Regardless of the downpour Link refused to ride through the Field—angering the guards would not expedite their journey to the safety of the castle.

Another, smaller wall divided the Field and the castle; the only portal through was a large gate in the center, towards which the road—and thus the riders—curved. A large, beautifully forged wrought-iron gate granted passage to the already lowered drawbridge spanning the moat. _That isn't right . . . Oh, Goddesses, no!_

Two guards laid dead before the gate, clothed in the tarnished glory of the armor of the Royal Family's honor guard. One lay decapitated, his helmeted head inches from his hand as though he had tried to catch his severed skull before he died; the other was disemboweled by some powerful slashing blow. Red streams were diluted and washed away from both by the downpour.

For the first time Link looked at the castle through the rain. His breath caught in his throat.

It towered through the rain, reaching defiantly towards the angry heavens as a testament to the power of the Royal Family. Uncountable spires and towers of white marble endured the watery assault without fail, beautiful, priceless stained glass windows adorning its numerous faces. Angels and gargoyles, the sages and the triforce, and numerous other sculptures were carved into the unflinching marble. Link had seen its majesty numerous times before; he was not worried about the exterior. What terrified him was behind the windows.

The bloody red glare of a voracious fire illuminated them from within.

_We're too late!_

Link leapt off of Epona, ripped his sword from its scabbard, and sprinted towards the great doors to the castle's innards. The massive doors, twenty feet tall, ten wide, were already cracked a few feet open; black smoke issued from within.

_The Queen! Zelda!_

Without a second thought Link slipped through, leaving the others to chase after him.

Through it all a black mantra rippled through his mind, echoing and multiplying into a undulating scream of failure:

_This is all my falt! I'm too late!_

_Too late!_

_--------_

Somewhere within the echoing corridors of his thoughts a dark voice began to laugh.


	4. IV: The Longest Day

**Hey, sorry for the freakishly long wait. R&R!**

--

Reval Keshan

Chapter 4

The Longest Day

--

"_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"_

Link staggered back, throwing up his arms to shield his face even as he felt his skin start to crisp. Plowing backward past Kain, he stumbled down the stairs and into the rain, fists clenched, features twisted into a grimace of rage and guilt. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_"

"What?" He heard Malon ask.

"Too late," he gasped, feeling scalding hot air flow through his lungs. "I'm too late."

Kain wrenched the doors shut. He turned back to them, revealing to Ren's inquiring gaze an all-too-familiar flame boiling behind his icy demeanor. "There is nothing left. The walls are empty except for flames and corpses."

All Alva could say was, "Oh, shit."

Malon blinked, speechless; she could not grasp the enormity of the thought. Besides that, she had never seen Link so . . . emotional, for lack of a better word. She had never seen him truly angry or upset. _The castle is burning? The Queen is dead?_

"No, no, no. That can't be it." Ren was shell-shocked, if anything. No one had seriously considered and planned for the possibility of their being too late--the catastrophic repercussions. "We aren't done that easy. I don't accept it."

"Goddesses, how the _hell_ is this fair?" Link ranted, fire in his eyes. "I turn my back for _one fucking second--_" he drew back his fist to punch the wall and froze. "Wait." A small ornamental bush rustled unduly in the rain as something small and thin slid back into its shelter. _They left someone behind. They, it, whatever it is--I'm gonna kill this thing and let it see how much it likes the fire . . ._ "We have a little guest, I think." He strode toward it, gait stiff with rage, his knuckles going white from squeezing his sword. "Come on, lets see how it likes it."

Ignoring their responses, he grabbed the bush by the base and _ripped_--the thing burst from the ground in a spray of mud. His sword flashed upward, raised for the kill--

--and stopped.

Lying limply where the bush had rested was a woman, petite figure wrapped tightly with charred and bloodstained blue and white bandages. All but her eyes and one stray lock of golden hair was obscured. As he stared, frozen, one eye cracked open, revealing a glimmer of red iris; the same shade of the red weeping eye on her torso. Casting aside his sword and dropping to his knees, he cried out for the others. Grabbing her hand with his left, he nearly sobbed with relief as a soft golden glow illuminated his face. A faint triangle glowed from both their hands.

The others crowded around him, shocked at his discovery. "Bandages," he murmured, then turned and called, "Someone go look in my saddlebags for scraps of cloth, anything for a bandage. We need to help her." He clamped his hands tightly over a long, deep gash in her side, feeling blood seep through his fingers. The woman's eye twitched and shut; she had fallen unconscious. Red whorls colored the clear-brown puddles of rainwater, swirling like restless spirits in the ether. "Help--Malon, come'ere."

The farmgirl knelt beside him, shocked and wordless. "Here," he said, guiding her hand, "hold her shut--_tight_, or she'll bleed to death." Malon's work-callused palms pressed down on a shorter but deep red tear on the inside of the woman's right thigh, cringing as she felt hot blood flow stickily over her hands. She had slaughtered cuccos and other livestock before, but this was worse--much worse; there was just so much, too much, and this was no addle-brained bird but a breathing Hylian whose blood was running over her. She felt her stomach flip and clench.

Ren sprinted back to them from the horses, sliding on his knees to the fallen woman with a roll of white cloth. "Here we go." Pulling a knife from the small of his back, he sliced a small section of cloth away and crumpled it into a pad. "Lift up."

Link shifted his hands away from her side; a fresh spurt of blood began to flow, cut short as Ren gently but firmly pressed the pad to the gash, using his fingertips to nudge it slightly inside. The woman groaned, still unconscious; Link held the pad again as the other man wrapped her middle in cloth, tying it tightly. "Shit," he spat, pulling on the knot, "her blood's not hot enough. We need to warm her up or she's not gonna wake up. Hypothermia, or whatever you call it--she's been freezing out here."

"Malon," Link ordered, voice firm, "take this--" he hurriedly pushed his rupee purse into her hands as he took her place "--and go look for a room. Wait outside for us once you do." She nodded mutely, eyes wide, and stood up to run.

"I will help," Kain declared, and took off after her.

Ren cried, "Again;" another pad was pressed on and into her thigh as they wrapped it in white cloth. "We're running out," he observed worriedly.

Link nodded tersely. "That's all the major open wounds," he muttered more to himself than the rest. With a gentle but firm hand he felt his way across her body; in any other situation it would be lewd, but he knew that the most dangerous wounds were often undiagnosed internal injuries. He could not help but notice her fine, almost perfect form--lean muscle all around, no superfluous fat; small but firm and high breasts--these he avoided, cheeks pinking slightly--and curves in all the right places. _Enjoy yourself_, a black niche of his mind called tauntingly; _it's not everyday you get to grope royalty._ With a scowl he growled lowly, "Shut the fuck up."

"What'dya say? Find something?"

"Just a few burns on her torso and back. No broken bones, some lumps where there shouldn't be--bruises, I think." He resumed his pressure on her bandages.

"She's gotta be tough to make it through _that_," he replied. "Do you know her?"

Link hesitated. _Do I trust them?_

_Wait until she wakes up, ask her. She's just a Sheikah until then._

"She's a Sheikah, looks like one of the Queen's bodyguards. Very tough, but we need to move her to someplace warm to patch her up better." He looked up, glanced at Alva and her husband. "I can carry her on foot if you've got the horses--the bouncing will pull her wounds apart."

They nodded. "Let's go."

--

Minutes later the four found Kain and Malon flagging them down just outside the doorway of a small inn on the edge of the city square. Link hurried inside, cradling the woman in his arms, as the two foreigners stabled their horses.

The two ushered him upstairs, dripping bloody rain; he bustled past a bar, the bartender watching them quizzically, down a narrow hallway, and through a poorly fit door into a room the size of a large closet. Half the space was occupied by a lumpy bed; here he set her softly down, the front of his shirt already a dark brown-red from the leaking bandages. Still she remained unconscious, though she moaned whenever he accidentally grazed her wounds. "Kain," he asked, "go and get a needle, thread, cloth, extra blankets, and a bucket of water--hopefully hot--from the owner. Use the money I gave Malon if you have to. Oh, and you're going to have to convince him later we don't exist. Okay?"

The man nodded silently and departed, shutting the door behind him.

"Malon, pull back the blanket." He lifted the Sheikah's petite frame; Malon slid back the covers, laying the lumpy mattress bare, and he lowered her softly back down. "Look, this can't leave this room unless I say so, okay? This is very important. Understand?"

The farmgirl nodded. "Good." He pulled a small dagger from a sheathe at his belt and, careful not to injure her, sliced the Sheikah's clothes down her front from chin to hip and peeled them gingerly off. Though he did his best to be gentle, small patches of burnt skin lifted off with it; pus and blood ran across pale skin. Thankfully for her modesty the woman had worn a thin cloth bra and panties beneath the traditional Sheikah wrappings; though it left essentially nothing to the imagination, it was something.

Ugly blotches of blisters and burnt skin roiled across her body, many oozing thickly. A number of small nicks and scratches covered her hands, arms, and torso--if he had to guess Link would have said that she had escaped through a window. He pressed Malon's hands to the woman's side again, replacing the bandage. Blood ran onto the already stained mattress.

Link removed the rest of her wrappings as softly as possible, wincing as he revealed the extent of her injuries. Small shards of glass were imbedded in her forearms and in smaller numbers elsewhere, while small cuts, bruises, and burns covered essentially all of her body. She was lucky to be alive.

Finally he gently unwound the cloth covering her face, feeling the pull of half-dried blood resist his efforts. Her hair was long and golden, held in a surprisingly tight bun, while her high cheekbones gave her a regal air distinctly contradicted by a large gash above her eyebrow, in which a shard of glass was embedded; blood had sealed one eye shut, while the other flitted restlessly beneath its lid. Wincing, he slid the glass shard free of her flesh with his nails, letting a fresh flow of blood emerge, and placed it on a small night table next to the bed.

Even as bloodied and bruised as she was, Link definitely recognized the disguised Queen Zelda of Hyrule. Perhaps they were not too late after all.

"Link . . . Is she--"

"Yes." He looked up and smiled worriedly. "But she won't be alive for long if we don't help her."

Kain knocked and opened the door, arms full with Link's requested items. "Here. Do you need my help?"

"Are you good at this sort of thing?"

"Very. I have all too much experience."

"Then we need your help. Malon, can you go help the others get settled? We can't have too many people in here, and he knows what he's doing."

She nodded and walked out, shutting the door behind her; the knowledge of their patient's importance had robbed her of words, leaving her shell-shocked. Kain swiftly knelt in her place, setting his vast armload down.

Link dipped a rag in the bucket of hot water and dabbed at her wounded side, cleaning it of dirt and such contaminants; with his knife he trimmed away strands of skin stuck in the gash, then threaded a needle and painstakingly began to sew it shut.

Zelda's red eye flew open. Link cried, "Kain!" but he was already ready, pinning her arms to her chest and her chest to the bed; she screamed through clenched lips and jaws, physically trying to restrain herself but failing nonetheless. For nearly ten seconds she held her cry, then sucked in another breath and managed to stop, though her muscles instinctively clenched in pain. Her chest heaved momentarily but began to slow as she tried to isolate herself from the pain. It did not work well in her current state; that much was obvious, but it appeared to help.

Link did not allow himself to stop, though he desperately wished he could.

Cords stood out on her neck. Zelda swallowed twice and coughed in a smoke-choked whisper, "You can let go now. I will not fight."

Kain hesitated for a fraction of a second, then acquiesced, recognizing the iron self-discipline evident in her voice. She continued, "Link?"

"Right here, uh, Sheik." He decided it would be wise to use the name of the alter-ego she had used to hide herself during her seven-year exile until he knew more about the situation.

She smiled faintly. "I was not sure if it was a hallucination or if--_hmm!_" Her jaw clenched in pain.

"Sorry."

"--or if it was you." She harshly cleared her throat of ash. "Who are you?"

"I am Kain. But my story will wait until you are fit to hear it."

"Perhaps that would be best." She closed her eye, fighting the waves of pain wracking her body.

Link announced, "Halfway done. Keep talking, distract yourself."

"You are not from Hyrule." It was not a question, but a statement.

"No, I am not. But again, that is a complicated thing; it will wait."

"I suppose it will." Her face twitched involuntarily.

Momentary silence but for Zelda's breathing and the thin rasp of the thread. "I have to admire your reserve," Kain admitted. "Not many can hold themselves as such."

"Thank--_ihhm_--you. I have a good teacher." She forced her balled fists to relax.

Tense minutes passed; finally Link tied the last knot. "Finished here." _**Spread yer legs, bitch!**_

_What the hell am I _thinking_?! Shut the fuck up and do your job!_

_**That's what she said, am I right?**_

_When did my mind regress to the maturity of a thirteen-year-old?_

"Two more," Zelda sighed.

"This was the worst. These will be easier. Kain, can you go get some water?"

"Of course." He seemed to pick up on Link's message--_Privacy, please._

Link cleaned the inside of her thigh with the soggy rag, then trimmed away the straggling dead skin. "Uh, I need a little more space, if you can . . ." Color bloomed up the back of the neck.

She uttered a single monosyllabic laugh. "At least my father isn't here. He was always wary of your being a commoner." She shifted her legs further apart.

"Thanks." Unconsciously he noticed how she seemed to relax when soly around him; then again, they had known each other for years. "Brace." The needle pricked through her skin as he started to sew; she tensed but did not make a sound.

Silence reigned again.

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

Link was so surprised he stabbed his finger with the needle. "What?"

"You blame yourself for not being there. It's in your nature, I know it. It would have turned out the same regardless--and your not being there does not make you guilty. You are not Hyrule's babysitter."

"Zelda," he sputtered, "you're the one being sewed up, still half-dead. Why are _you_ trying to make _me_ feel better?"

"Because it weighs on you, more than you like to--_iihhhmm--_like to admit. And you're wrong. It's not your fault."

"Okay, sure. Just relax. You're not in good enough condition to be a therapist."

"I'm not kidding."

"I'm not either." More sewing. The gash slowly drew tight. "Do you want them to know your, uh, status?"

"Do you trust them?"

"To an extent, but I've only known them for a few days." _Screw it_. "They say that they want to meet you to try and get help destroying this thing, but I've been betrayed before. Still, I've seen what this thing's done so far--so have you, I guess--and we may have to take that risk. They seem to know much about it."

"Tomorrow. I trust you and your judgement--and if we're wrong, I still trust you." She smiled thinly. "You've earned your reputation."

"So I like to think."

"So I know."

He smiled through his worry. "You okay?"

"You're doing fine."

"I mean overall. Is there anything else I can do?"

"You're doing it. It hurts--inside and out--but that means I'm alive."

"Yeah, I guess so. Done here."

"Much better," she sighed. "Your needlework is improving."

"So I hope." _Goddesses,_ he marvelled, _she's as tidy as though she's back on the throne even though she's been beaten, burned, nearly assassinated, and had her ancestral castle destroyed. She's braver than me, and I'm supposed to be the friggin' hero!_

He cleaned the cut on her forehead, also washing away the blood on her face, freeing her other eye. "Here we go. Brace."

She hissed slightly but did not flinch. "Last one."

"Yeah, and the shortest one, but if it scars it'll be visible to the public, if it matters."

"Better a scarred forehead than a missing eye."

"True."

For a minute they both were silent, each concentrating on the other; Link found it harder and harder to pay attention to his work, distracted by her tarnished beauty. It did not help that they were essentially face-to-face with mere inches to spare.

"Link?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for always being there."

That took him by surprise; again his sewing hitched. She continued, "Whenever I've been in trouble you've been there, and I just want to thank you. No one is quite--" her voice hitched, presumably from his needlework "--like you. So thank you."

"Well, thank you for being you." He smiled softly down at her, done with his needlework; for a long moment they were frozen, face to face, and something slipped past them both. Link straightened up, feeling strangely disappointed with himself, and put aside the needle. Suddenly they both were embroiled in an awkward silence.

"I need to take those glass pieces out," Link finally said.

"Yeah, I think so."

For another fifteen minutes they only engaged in small talk as Link tended to her wounds, pulling glass from cuts and cleaning her burns and gashes. Eventually someone knocked at the door, and Malon walked humbly through, carrying a clay pitcher. The redhead curtsied somewhat awkwardly and shut the door. "Uh, your highness."

"Please," Zelda replied, "just call me Zelda. You are Malon Lon?"

"Oh, yes!" She burst, "You remember me?"

"Of course! You came almost weekly to deliver milk, and we would talk until one of us had to go." She smiled, and said, "Of course, once my studies picked up I could not talk for lack of time."

"Ah, yeah, I think it was when we were about ten or so."

"On the dot."

"Huh," Link said, "surprising. What've you got there, Mal?"

"Oh, the owner downstairs saw that someone was hurt and sent out for this wierd red stuff. Of course, a hefty tip didn't hurt his generosity."

"Of course." Malon handed the hefty pitcher to Link, who sniffed its contents and muffled a sneeze. "Ach, the red potion thing--I don't know its real name." He blinked back tears and sniffed. "Smells, uh, powerful."

The queen just rolled her eyes tiredly. "Oh, joy. Thank you, Malon--this is perfect."

"Anything I can do, uh, Zelda."

Link slowly estimated, "If you drink about a mouthful a day you should heal quickly and without side effects; drink most of it now, though, and you'll be immediately fixed--painfully--but may end up with some, er, botched side effects." He offered a tentative grin, "I would recommend from experience the former."

"It seems that would be best, then." She tiredly held out her bandaged hands; Link lowered the pitcher to her but did not let go, guiding its edge to her lips and back. Her face tweaked. "Do you have water?" A cleansing drink from a small jar seemed to rinse her mouth of the potion's smarting aftertaste. "Thanks."

They both nodded. Link placed the pitcher on the nightstand and helped draw the covers to her chin, preserving what remained of her modesty; within moments she was asleep. The five still awake took her example, retiring in the rooms to either side of hers, while Link slept on her floor next to the door, sword in hand. He would not be too late twice.

--

_**Red-black blood spurts along its (**_**his?**_**) blade as it lops off the peasant woman's head with a wet **_**chung**_**, the metal singing with malevolent delight at the death it creates. Her corpse crumples to the ground bonelessly, minus the skull that bounces away as though kicked by ghosts in some macabre game. Hot liquid splashes his face, arm, chest; he grins, relishing its salty flavor as it runs into his mouth.**_

_**Guards and citizens run as one jumbled mass--any difference between them is now gone. Terror and panic lowers their minds into the same base pit of instinct, leading courageous men to trample the women and children they swore to protect in their flight. It will not save them; though they would flee through the surrounding fields, some running for miles, he would catch them, and they would feel the cold sting that sounded their death. Not one among them would survive this cursed night.**_

_**He scoops a spear from the ground, stained with the blood of its fallen owner, and hurls it with inhuman strength; a man screams shrilly as he is pinned to the ground, clutching the shaft that has gored him through the lung. The man thrashes, drowning in his own blood, before the attacker raises his boot and crushes his skull as he would an eggshell. The corpse stills.**_

_**A guard rushes past in panic; he slashes down, and the guard's arm slaps wetly to the ground, still flexing. The one-armed man rushes twenty yards before falling dead. He scoops the amputated limb from the ground, squeezing, enjoying the feel of its bones pulverising; walking up to a nearby wall with this bloody paintbrush in hand he begins to write in large, ragged capitals--**_

_**HELLO HERO**_

_**I'M BACK!**_

_**With a grin that could chill a goron's blood he returns to the slaughter--**_

--

It had been a long week. Link slept lightly until a warm, molten shaft of sunlight flowed through the grit-encrusted window and illuminated his face, stirring him into groggy wakefulness. With a muffled yawn he blinked at the cobwebs of rest and stretched until his back cracked. Checking Zelda to find her blankets rising and falling the to the rhythm of her breathing, he craned his head into the brown-gold light, enjoying its warmth.

_Damn__ I overslept_, he thought, but his mind carried no venom; he was still immersed in the satisfaction unique to sleeping in, and he knew that they all deserved a day of rest regardless. Even if they could move on to where ever they were needed next, the Queen's dire condition eliminated all aspirations of travel or work.

Link finally released his white-knuckled grip on his sword, surprised to find himself clenching it so fiercely in his sleep. He stared bemusedly at the indents on the leather palm of his gauntlet. Knuckles popped as he clenched and unclenched it repeatedly, working it into more usable condition. "Huh," he breathed. _Bad dreams?_ He remembered something vaguely unpleasant, but the more he tried to seize the fragment of memory the more it slipped through his fingers like smoke. Then it was gone. _Whatever. Not like I'd probably even want to remember it anyway_.

The Hylian stood and stretched again, sheathing his sword. He stole one final look at the slumbering Queen. _She'll be fine. Just needs time to heal_. With that he quietly slipped through the door and padded downstairs. At a small table he found Kain slowly eating some type of unidentifiable meat; supposedly beef, but it looked inedible. Still, anything warm after too long eating only dried beef sounded delicious. Link pulled up a chair and sat, mumbling "morning" in the way most people do--that is, in a voice that queries, _Why am I not asleep?_

"Good morning." The huge man was as awake as ever. _Of course. I haven't even seen him sleep_.

Link waved to the stout barmaid. "'Scuse me, what do you have to eat here?"

"What he's eating and stew. I'd go for the stew, myself, 'cuz that looks nasty."

He grinned, "I guess the stew it is, thanks."

The maid threaded her way through the open tables, jiggling in all the wrong places. "You know, ya probably shouldn't eat something when the cook's own assistant won't touch it."

"I will be fine. Besides, this tastes better than it looks."

"I hope so, but that's not saying much."

Kain snorted bemusedly. "How's our Sheikah?"

"Stable, I think. Still asleep, understandably, but that gift the innkeeper gave us will really speed up her recovery and let us move sooner."

Kain's brow creased momentarily. _He knows something, but's saving it for later_, Link thought. _I admire your patience, at least_. "Perhaps she will help us hunt it down, given the fact that the Queen is dead."

_Or maybe he's not saving it. _"Hey, I've gotta tell you all something about that once everyone else wakes up. Hold that thought, 'kay?"

He nodded sagely. "Your food is here."

Indeed it was, accompanied by another table being pushed along the floor, three more bowls of stew, and the three people Link had just mentioned. "Speak of the devil, or make that devils. Morning."

"Yeah, morning." The three pulled up the extra table and chair, sat down, and dug in. Link joined them with gusto; the thick stew was only lukewarm, but filling and great tasting.

Kain waited only a minute before prompting, "I believe Link was waiting to say something to us all." He indicated the newcomers with a wave of his hand, "They are all here."

_Doesn't give up easily, now, does he?_ "Yeah, guess I was."

"What's up?" Alva asked, gesturing with her spoon. "News on _it_, or something?"

"Yesterday, or this morning, technically," he announced, "we may have been too late for the castle, but not for the Queen."

"She escaped?" Ren cried.

"Barely. She's upstairs, unconscious."

He leaned back, shocked nearly to speechlessness. "Son of a bitch," he murmured, surprised. "We made it."

"Again, barely, but we made it. She's half dead but as long as her injuries don't get infected she'll recover like new. Pretty fast, as well, thanks to the innkeeper's, ah, generosity."

Despite Ren and Alva's shocked, relieved reactions, Kain remained relatively impassive. _Either he's one hell of an actor or he knew. Both can be bad._ "Perhaps we are luckier than we think."

"Yeah, guess so. She's in a disguise she uses in crises--an alter ego, of sorts. No one will recognize her as long as she keeps her headwrap on, like a traditional Sheikah. I would have told you last night but I wanted to talk to her first."

"And you didn't trust us yet," Alva finished for him. "Understandable. I would've done the same thing."

He shrugged. "I'm not gonna lie."

"No need," Ren added. "So, what do we do now? She obviously can't move, even if we had a place to go to."

Kain stated, "It may not know she survived. Still, it acts on a somewhat egotistic paranoia; it is likely that it will be watching any hospitals it can find and still be searching for us. We need to remain on guard and ensure she remains safe. I propose that someone guard her at all times."

The rest nodded their assent. Link queried, "It would go after the second in command next, wouldn't it?"

"If our experience is any indicator, yes. Where is he, or she?"

"She lives in Kakariko, which is only a few days to the east; her name is Impa, the Queen's mentor and friend."  
"Is this widely known?"

"Yes. She's held in high regard. That's where it's going, then?"

He nodded. "Shit," Link continued. "We don't have enough time."

Malon broke in, "So, what do we do? We need to keep the Queen safe, obviously, but she isn't well enough to move. Splitting up would probably end in disaster, something tells me; we barely made it out of that village."

"Very wise. You catch on quickly for one so inexperienced," Kain complimented.

"Thanks."

Link answered, "I would say that all we really can do is wait and take turns watching the Queen. I can send a letter by Zora to Impa warning her of an attack and asking for a carriage and entourage--the ride will be hard for her injuries, but she'll take it better and sooner than on horseback or on foot."

"So, what? We just wait around 'til then?"

"Pretty much. Nothing else we can do." He noticed the foreigner's slightly perplexed expressions. "What?"

Ren asked, "What's a Zora?"

"What? Don't you--oh, yeah, you're not from here, huh . . . Uh, do you know what a dolphin is?"

"Yeah."

"Imagine a cross between me and a dolphin, and you've roughly got a Zora."

The three outsiders' eyebrows simultaneously charged their hairlines. "No joke?"

"Nope."

Stymied, Ren only could say, "Huh. Dolphin?"

"Dolphin."

". . . Huh. Dolphin."

"Yeah. Look, if you guys want to go check out the rest of the city I'll take the first shift--is two hours per person good?" They nodded their assent. "Cool. Anyone else?"

Malon spoke up, "I'll take the next one."

"And I will take the one after hers," Kain announced.  
"We'll take the last two," Ren and Alva said.

"Ok, that works, I guess. I'm wealthy enough to loan you all some money; take what you need. I'll see you," he looked at Malon, "in two hours."

--

_**The guard is first, for no reason other than for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It had slipped into Kakariko the night before; now it lurks in the shadows beneath the porch of one of the town's finer houses, biding its time. Rim, as the guard is known to his friends, leans against the smooth stone of the inside of the town wall, enjoying the shade. Thus he is vulnerable.**_

_**Rim does not take undue notice of the small blot of darkness flit from a blue-painted porch into the wall's shadow; he unconsciously attributes it to the shadow of a bird flying overhead. All he is concentrating on is the sweat running down his body from the midday sun's blazing heat; after all, this is essentially the quietest part of town. His discomfort was the most nefarious thing that had happened here since a little boy had skinned his knee playing in the road a week ago. **_**Even a damn devil wouldn't do anything in this heat**_**, he thinks; all the residents are escaping the heat elsewhere in town. Thus he would die alone.**_

_**He does notice, however, a cold, armored hand grip his face, muffling his mouth and nose with the amorous intensity of a rapist grabbing an unprotected breast, and begin to squeeze. Rim cannot scream, such is the pain that wracks his soul; it is as though his blood has been replaced with white-hot molten steel flowing through his veins, melting the flesh it touches, emanating from his head.**_

_**A series of wet cracks echoes through his skull, followed by a wet tearing; this is the sound his bones make as his jaw snaps and caves in in over six places, driving sharp shards of bone through his gums and flooding his mouth with salty blood. More pops ring as his cheekbones are crushed into shards of bone and distort the architecture of his eye sockets, leading one eye to convulse crazily as it is compressed and the other to seemingly balloon in surprise as it slides partially out of its slot. **_

_**Blood spills thickly and swiftly from where bone punctures skin, covering his front with a sheet of crimson. After what seems equivalent to an eternity of hell--though it has all taken less than two seconds--he finally tried to scream. He does not have time.**_

_**The hand shoves backwards with inhuman strength, crushing his skull against the unyielding stone wall. His steel helmet crumples like a tin can and splits; his skull explodes with a wet **_**sclunsh**_**, spattering pulpy red across the wall much like a massive, overripe tomato. The hand lets go, leaving the corpse to buckle to its knees, ruined head sliding downward on the wall and leaving a trail of blood, hair, scalp, and what had recently been Rim's brain, before listing to the side and falling over.**_

_**It (**_**he?**_**) grins.**_

_**"**_**One**_**."**_

**--**

Malon slowly wandered the pleasantly cobbled streets, one hand firmly on her small pouch of rupees. Her father had once been pickpocketed here; though this was an exceedingly safe city--_or had been_, she thought belatedly--no place is perfectly safe. Not even home.

Tears pricked her eyes, blurring her vision, but she determinedly blinked them away. _I won't turn into a soft-willed "maiden in distress." I will not._Her free hand gently slid across her sword hilt, like a child caressing a lucky charm. _This thing, whatever it is, wants me to give in. _Fuck_ that. _A few short weeks ago such profanity, even within the privacy of her thoughts, would have shamed her. Much, however, had changed in those short, long weeks. She still could not remember what had happened on those dreadful last days on the ranch; perhaps she never would. All that she could pull from the mists of memory was a deep, heartless blackness--not the dark navy of the night sky, but _black_. Utter absence of light, of hope. She shuddered. Perhaps such things were best left to remain in the intangible past.

The other three had offered their company, but she had declined. Right now all she wanted--needed--to do was be alone. Perhaps they sensed this; perhaps they did not. Either way she had struck off on her own, wandering westward. Small wooden stands--little more than wooden skeletons draped with cloth--still dotted the edges of the streets, though she long had left the market. Slowly she observed open shopfronts meld into apartments meld into open slum; here mud choked the cobblestones while the putrid smell of stale urine and feces drifted from the alleys. Gaunt men, women--children--clothed only in tattered rags inhabited this ring of poverty that encapsulated the richer interior of the city; here there were more bare feet than footwear, more desperation than satisfaction. And yet these people survived.

"_It amazes me, the will of instinct_." Out of her consciousness this quote drifted, no discernible source to be found; yet it defined her feelings to the letter. _We are a hardier people than we may think._ She slowly turned around, wary of going over her time; she did not wish to break her word. _We will survive._

_I will survive_. This thing--this Reval Keshan--thought it had defeated her, crushed her soul. It had all reason to, after all; in essence it had raped her body, mind, and soul more effectively than any drunken thug could aspire to, subjecting her utterly to its will, then tossing her aside like a soiled garment in its flight. But she was not broken. She could--would--fight, even if she was still a novice; she would learn. No one, no matter how evil or foul, deserved what she had fallen victim to, even if veiled by what she suspected to be self-imposed amnesia. No one.

Throughout her entire life Malon had been drifting along on the whims of others--what her father thought she should do, what Ingo thought, what Zelda thought . . . _Fuck that._ From now on, she vowed to herself, she was no ones but her own. _And what do I want to do?_

_I want to kill this son of a bitch._

--

_**And so the days pass by uneventfully.**_

_**However, life is not so complacent in Kakariko; the dark one goes on the prowl.**_

_**He (**_**it?**_**) grins toothily as he stalks between the humble houses. He has restrained himself to killing only one a day; thus the time of his second is at hand. A healthy blanket of darkness coats the town--the night is his. **_**Who, who, **_**who**_** wants to have some **_**fun? **_

_**Through the night's blackness he slips; a thrill of excitement and exhilaration makes his limbs thrum with energy. Perhaps slips overstates his stealthiness; down the shadowy avenues he swaggers, only a black outline, gleaming white teeth, and blood red eyes in the comforting embrace of the night. Of course, his teeth would stagger any resident dentist--his extended canines seemed more beastly and fanglike than human. **_**Hmmmmm . . . Another guard? Maybe a housecall? Choices, choices.**

_**His morbid deliberations are cut short by a faint wet **_**thwap thwapping**_** sound tickling his sensitive ears. **_**A Zora! We have our lucky winner.**_** Grin widening, he slides behind the corner of a house, body tense. Swiftly the Zora's footsteps grow closer. Soon wet, whistling panting reaches him, then the small, lithe form of a Zora emerges around the corner, oblivious to his approaching death--**_

_**The dark one's fist flies out and plows into the pale blue jaw of the fishlike creature, snapping the thin bone and sending him flopping onto his back--quite literally a fish out of water. A thin, reedy squawk of pain erupts from his lips. Stunned, the Zora is helpless as the dark one steps down with the edge of his foot upon his exposed throat, cutting off all air. His pale form begins to thrash in panic, violet eyes bulging in pain and terror. His attacker, gloating downward, amicably asks, "What'cha doin' there, fishboy?"**_

_**The Zora instinctively slashes at his leg with the bladelike flippers on his forearms, but they lack the deadly edge of his race's warriors; he fails to penetrate his attacker's clothing. A thin line of dark blue blood flows from the corner of his mouth; his face turns a deep, mottled grey-black. "C'mon, what's with all the fuss?" Crimson eyes note a waterproof oilcloth tube flop from convulsing fingers. He scoops it up leisurely, never relenting in his pressure on the Zora's throat. "What, are you the mailfish, fishboy?"**_

_**He slits the oilcloth with a thin dagger and slips a scroll from its embrace. With a smirk he begins to read.**_

_**The Zora's struggles begin to weaken.**_

_**" 'Impa, it is extremely important that you send an armed carriage with all speed to The Headshed inn in Castle Town . . .' " As his eyes flick over the scroll he begins to laugh. "Well, fuck me Freddy," he exclaims bemusedly.**_

_**"Huh. Seeing as you're taking quite the nap, I better get this little thing delivered . . . don't want to see my **_**good friend **_**wait, now, do we?" He lifts his foot off of the lifeless corpse. "No, don't want that indeed . . . Thank you, **_**Two**_**." **_

_**Headsplitting grin returning, he ambles off for Impa's house. He already looks forward to company.**_

--

A knock twitched Link over the fine line separating doze from reality; blinking, alert, he stood up cautiously. It had been four days since he had mailed the letter; perhaps this was good news. "Link, it's me." Recognizing Malon's voice he crossed the room--it took two strides, such was its diminutive size--and pulled open the door. He stood aside, letting her enter, and locked the door behind her. She nodded her thanks to Link and her respect to the dozing Queen.

"What's up?"

Malon leaned against the nightstand. "There's two men downstairs in armor that has the Kakariko emblem on them. I think our ride's here." She seemed somehow tense and relieved.

"Okay . . ." he scratched at his hair. "Stay here and watch her for a sec, okay? I'm gonna go see if it's them." _Or if it's a trap_, he finished mentally.

"Mm-hm."

"Don't let anyone but me and the others in, okay?"

"Obviously."

"I'll be back in a minute." With that he stepped through the door, shutting it behind him. After he heard the latch snick home he made his way down the stairs to the small bar and surreptitiously scanned the room. Sure enough, two men in steel armor made grungy by fast travel sat side by side at the bar, half-empty beers clasped in their hands. Link took advantage of his anonymity to briefly scan the guards over; both wore thin platemail armor that rustled noisily as they shifted position, and the red crest of Kakariko was emblazoned over their chests and shoulders. One seemed young and spry--a little younger than Link, making him very new to the Guard. The other, somewhat short and pear-shaped with a long mop of brown-gray beard clutching his face, seemed too out of shape to be effective in a fight. _Gee, thanks, Impa. Cream of the crop, I see; a newbie and the town lardhouse._

_Oh, shut up, me. You're being an asshole._

_Do normal people talk to themselves?  
Whatever._

Noting the longswords strapped to their hips, Link walked over and sat down next to them. "You look lost. Waiting for someone?"

The young one looked over; a goatee seemed out of place on his nearly teenaged face. "Yep. You know a guy named Link? We're here from Kakariko with a cart for him."

"That's me." Link tensed, prepared to spring. If it was a trap, this would spring it . . .

"Cool. See," he smirked to his shorter counterpart, "toldja it wasn't a fake-out."

He grumbled something goodnaturedly. Link allowed himself to partially relax; perhaps this would be easy. "Okay," the younger man said, "I'm Antin, and this tub of lard is Jerome. He drives, I follow on horse and discourage shit from happening. Easy enough--didn't see a thing on the way over, bad or otherwise."

Jerome snorted. "They sent us here to get rid of us," he intoned in a gravelly baritone. "The greenhorn and the fatso. This'll be a cakewalk."

"Whatever you say."

Link smiled tightly. "How soon can we leave? I have a badly wounded--ah, war hero that needs attention in Kakariko that we can't get here." _Watch yourself. You can't keep almost slipping up like this._

"We have fresh horses. When you're ready we are."

"We'll be ready in five minutes. Can you meet us outside?"

"Uh, sure."

"We've got no time to waste. Let's go." With that he stood up and speedwalked back up the stairs.

Antin scratched his goatee. "Kinda uptight, ain't he?"

"Whatever." Jerome hauled himself off the stool with a grunt. "You heard the man. Let's go."

Upstairs Link rapped at the door. "Mal, time to go." The door ratcheted open; Malon had picked up on the urgent tone in his voice. "They're here. Do me a favor and go get the others--I'll get her ready." With a mute nod she complied.

"So we're leaving?" Zelda rasped quietly. Her throat was still harsh from the smoke she had inhaled in her escape from the castle.

"Yeah." Link crouched down and reached under the bed, withdrawing a crude stretcher he had cobbled together from strong cloth and wooden slats he had bought in the market. "Roll on your side for a sec . . ." He slid the rudimentary creation beneath her too-weak form. ". . . and roll back." Gingerly he helped her position herself somewhat comfortably. "Is that good?"

"Sure."

He bustled around the room, stuffing clean bandages and such into a small sack he had brought for the purpose. Soon it was close to overflowing. "Okay, I'm gonna go get someone to help me carry you downstairs, okay? Scream your head off if anything happens. It'll just be a moment."

Her lips pressed into a thin white line that somewhat resembled a smile. "I'll be fine."

Link nodded and jogged downstairs and outside, coming face to face with Antin, who asked, "Ready? We need to get back."

He ignored the young man's impatience and brushed past him, walking up to the rust-red carriage behind him. It was little more than a wooden cube on four wheels, slightly uneven and spattered with mud. Harnessed to the front were two sturdy horses. Nodding, Link wrenched open the door--it was almost jammed; whoever had built it had not been very specific in their measurements--and tossed the bandages inside. Two small benches lined the front and rear sides of the diminutive space. _Quite the fine ride,_ he smirked.

Shoving the door shut, he turned to see Malon approach with their foreign travelers-in-arms. Beside him Antin exclaimed, "Why the hell did I come? That guy's a friggin' mountain!"

The Hylian hero rapped the guard's chest plate with his rag-wrapped gauntlets. "Help me with the stretcher upstairs. Come on."

As the two walked back into the inn the others introduced themselves. "Um," Jerome rumbled, "we don't have nearly enough space for all of you. Maybe two."

"We've got horses."

The guard shrugged. "Mkay. If I were you I'd get 'em ready."

--

Another three minutes had passed before they were completely ready to ride. It was decided that Malon, being the most vulnerable due to her inexperience, would ride in the relative safety of the carriage with Zelda--or as Sheik, as she was currently being referred to in her disguise--while the rest would ride in a protective circle around them. As they had previously explained Jerome drove the carriage while Antin, now with a stout spear, rode an aging mare. The others mounted their horses. "Ready?" Jerome called.

Looking around in approval, Link nodded. "Let's go."

They had no idea how long and hellish of a ride they were embarking upon.

The guard started the horses into a swift trot; the others followed suit, forming a loose grouping with the carriage at its core. On that day they were lucky, as the weather remained mellow, still flushed from the torrential rains. Pale blue skies and thin wisps of clouds benignly overlooked their journey, though the scorching sun did not seem so mildly tempered. Soon all were sweating, most of all the disguised Zelda; the inside of the carriage trapped heat much like a furnace. Still weak, each jarring pothole or mound caused her to grit her teeth. Her fresh bandages were soon tinged a darkening pink-red. Despite this she remained silent; she had been taught Sheikah techniques in isolating and ignoring pain.

They came upon the gutted carriage near dusk. Jerome noted it first, calling out. Link's pointed ears perked up. "What?"

"There's another carriage up ahead. Looks abandoned." Near unanimously the group slowed to a halt.

Scratching at his hat, Link tried to visualize any possible traps. The gently rolling plains could be deceitful; grass never remained uniformly even, instead rippling between six inches and, in some places, four feet. Concealing a small group of soldiers would be difficult but not improbable. "Do you think it's a trap?"

Jerome only shrugged. Ren spoke up, "There could be someone trapped in there. Let me check it out."

"No one goes alone. I'm coming too." The foreigner just shrugged. "Anyone have another idea?" Silence. "Okay," he muttered. He nodded to Ren; the two nudged their horses into a canter, cautiously watching the long grass.

"Look." Ren pointed to a rust-red splotch across a small patch of grass. He pulled free his sword. "That doesn't look good."

He snorted, "Really?" and also armed himself.

As they drew closer the true extent of the damage unfolded. The previously handsome carriage was mangled; deep, tearing pockmarks and long rips shredded the wooden frame, tearing away the doors completely. Somehow it had been flipped--it lay crumpled on its top, missing three wheels. The yoke had been torn away completely, ragged stump suggesting it had been hacked away to cripple the ride as a whole.

Blood had spattered everywhere; on the grass, over the carriage, in its interior. Its rank smell permeated the air. However . . .

"Where are the bodies?" Link asked. "Nothing can lose this much blood. This was a slaughter." He shook his head, suddenly anxious. "Even the Gerudo don't do things like this."

"Gerudo?"  
"Long story."

"Ah." The man nudged his horse slightly closer to the wooden wreckage, squinting; momentarily he jerked back, rigid. "Oh, shit."

"What? Did it do this?"

"Yeah, that's why there aren't any corpses--it took them . . . but that doesn't matter. It's using Rak . . ."

"Hm? Rak?"

Ren shook his head worriedly. "They're nocturnal--sleep in shade, probably dug beneath ground for the day . . . But we need to get to somewhere safe as soon as possible." His eyes were wide. "We won't be able to rest until we're in a safe town." He waved back to the carriage; it started trundling towards them. "These fields aren't safe here anymore. If we're caught in the open at dark we're fucked."

"We won't be able to make it before dark. If we rush, we could make it by dawn, I think."

He turned to him. "Then we'd better start going. Fast." As the rest of the group drew even they regrouped, moving on. "Look," Ren announced, "the things that killed those people are after us. They come out mostly at night. Basically, if we're out here when it gets dark we're dead." He laughed harshly and jerked his chin to the descending sun. "Better get a move on."

Somewhere in the catacombs beneath Kakariko a black form grinned and decided, _**Fuck patience. Let's have some **_**fun.**

And so their twisted race began; at a swift trot they sped to the east, running against the sun and risking speed against stamina. If their horses tired too quickly they could be cut down as they rested. If they travelled too slowly they increased tenfold their chances of ambush. Thus they ran a fine median line; straying too far to either side meant almost certain death. Still, despite their exertions the sun continued to set; though it was already known traveling to Kakariko in less than a day was impossible they knew that they had to try. No time could be wasted--far too much lay at stake.

No one spoke. Sweat ran freely; though the Hylians did not know of the exact nature of the creatures they could encounter, more than enough tension flowed in waves from their foreign companions to guess at the severity of their plight. Though the sun steadily grew low and red in the sky Death Mountain--at the foot of which rested their destination--seemed to grow no closer.

When the sun hid itself halfway behind the mountain's bulk Ren asked, "How much farther? How long?"

Jerome scuffed at his sweaty beard. "At this pace? Six hours."

Alva spat a curse. "We'll never make it. We need to hide somewhere, hole up and last the night. If we're stuck out here we have no chance."

Jerome replied, "I think we may run into something soon--a farm or something. Almost hermit-like." He shrugged. "It'd be easier to defend."

"If we cannot find it before dark, _run_," Kain postulated. "Stay around the carriage, but go as fast as you can. We need to make it to shelter."

"Woah, woah, woah. What are we running from?"

Ren answered simply, "Rak."

"And what is that?"

"A furry, doggish guy that runs friggin' fast and uses hooks chained to its body. Hurts like hell."

Jerome rolled his eyes. "Oooo-kay . . . sure. Wolfmen."

"You'll see."

"Goody. I'm all _atremble_ with anticipation."

"Whatever. Just look out, okay?"

The guard just grunted.

Though they were nearly at a gallop, the approaching purple-black swath of sky travelled faster than they could possibly hope; soon stars glimmered with uncertain malignance, like the eyes of a cruel child watching dogs fight. _Oh, shit . . . We're not gonna make it._

_**No shit.**_

_What?!_

Link frowned and shook his head, spraying droplets of sweat. Kain and his kinsmen unsheathed their weapons. "Keep your eyes open. They are not unintelligent by any stretch of the imagination."

He scratched his scalp and mirrored their actions. Apparently they knew what they were dealing wi--

A patch of loose soil sprayed upward just in front of the carriage's horses, earning a squeal of terror and a frenzied rearing. Jerome cursed mightily; this turned into a shriek as a wickedly barbed hook the size of a skull arced in from the side and pinned the meat of his arm to the wooden frame of the carriage. The hook, trailing a long length of chain, ripped itself free and wizzed into the darkness, taking a chunk of his flesh with it. The guard howled, scaring the horses into a blind gallop; they raced forward, jarring their consort to the side and plowing through the gritty cloud in front of them. Something lustily roared as it was trampled and crushed beneath the hooves and wheels.

_"Fuck!"_ Link cried. "Get back to the carriage! They're here!"

Antin bellowed, "_What the hell is that?!_"

As though in reply another hook hissed through the air for his throat. He screamed and ducked; the serrated edge rasped over the top of his helmet. "Oh, _shit!_"

Link dug his heels into Epona's sides, driving her into a full gallop; his sword glittered in his hand. Through eyes slitted against the wind he observed how the carriage was slowly drawing ahead of the rest. _An ambush. They set an ambush. They knew we were--_

Something metallic crashed into his sword; the rebound nearly ripped it from his fist. _Something tells me that was aiming for my head._ Around him his companions, also realizing their predicament, urged their horses to catch up with their host. Strangely deep and distorted canine baying and panting echoed from all around them. "Get back to the carriage! Don't let them cut us off!"

Darkness had fallen completely. At his speed Link could not discern the exact shapes of their attackers; all he could make out were lanky forms sprinting on all fours around them. The red eyes of Reval Keshan glowed--they were possessed, or whatever it did. _A pack of wolf-things? Shit, they're acting like a pack, at least. Hunting us like deer._ As he looked on one of the attackers plucked one of two hooks from its back--its long, trailing chain clamped around its arm--and swung it viciously. The hook flew and sank into the carriage's door; its chain jerked as its owner tried to rip the hook free. _No, not the hook . . . the door. Fuck._Link drove his heels into Epona again, eking yet more speed from the powerful mare. She shared his panic.

The ominous rattling of chains hissed into his ears. He flinched as another vicious hook clanged off of the shield strapped to his back, throwing him momentarily off balance. His arms flailed as his fought to regain his balance; luckily another attack did not take advantage of his weakness, allowing him to regain his stability. Link frowned; he would have one hell of an ugly bruise, but if he had not been wearing his sheild he would be dead. _Lucky_. Still the baying of the Rak filled his ears, competing against his heartbeat and the frenzied drumming of hooves.

Slowly he drew closer to their target with the rest close behind. Around him loped the wolf-like Rak. Sprinting on all fours they stood four feet at the shoulder; when they ran upright, reaching for the twin hooks strapped across their backs, they were taller than most men. Matted fur coated their lanky, muscled bodies, while their savagely glowing red eyes spoke of Reval Keshan's control. They seemed to be part wolf, part warrior; wolfmen, to risk the clichè. Ren had not been joking.

As he watched the Rak with its hook still embedded in the door roared its frustration and leaped with uncanny agility. Link could only watch on in amazement as it soared nearly twenty feet onto the roof of the carriage, landing heavily; Jerome yelped. "Malon!" he called, "It's on the roof!"

"Oh, _really?_"

"I'm just trying to--"

"Yeah, okay, watch the road!"

Link winced. He recognized her tone; she was fueling anger with fear, trying to utilize the former to avoid freezing up. It would keep her alive for now, or so he hoped. Still, an untrained farmgirl and an injured Queen would stand no chance against these monsters. He urged Epona on faster; sweat glistened in her coat as muscle coiled and undulated with rippling grace. The wind whipped at his face and clothes, seeming to try and push him away from his charge. _Oh, screw that_. Finally he drew within range; sheathing his sword, he yanked the longshot from his belt, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The contraption bucked gratifyingly against his palm; with a heavy _thuck_the barbed point sank home into the carriage back just a foot below the top edge. Link wiped the sweat from his brow, watching worriedly on as the Rak on the roof braced its feet and began to strain mightily against the chain holding it to the door; he observed the door creak and rock on its hinges. _Shit._ _Time to go._

He leaned down and hugged Epona around the neck, whispering in her ear, "Follow me, okay?" She was not an ordinary horse; something like acknowledgement shone in her eyes. Nodding, he pulled one foot free of the stirrup and braced it against the saddlehorn. Yelling his determination to the wind, Link pushed off, leaping to the side and pulling the trigger a second time; the device rattled and tried to rip his arm from the socket. The back of the carriage rushed forward--

_Thud._The air exploded from his lungs as body met wood; gasping for air, Link dangled on the carriage's end, feeling his toes scrape over the ground. If he lost his grip he would be trampled by his own allies before being devoured by the Rak. Not a fun proposition. With this in mind Link grunted and hauled himself upward, grabbing the top edge, dislodging the longshot, and climbing onto the top of the carriage. The shaking rattled his teeth, threatening to send him over the edge if he was not careful; as it was he could barely stay on his knees. Of course, there was a bigger problem directly in front of him.

The Rak, surprised into hesitation by his sudden appearance, made the mistake of not striking first. Link swung the longshot backhand, catching it with the bladed tip on the side of its skull. Black-tinged blood squirted; the Rak howled as it toppled over the edge, tumbling crazily along the dirt until he reached the end of its chain, which cracked it like a whip; unconscious, it bounced and shook along the ground, dragged onward by the chain fastened around its arm. _Persistent little bastards._

Link rapped on the roof. "I'm up here," he called out.

"What?" Malon sputtered. "How?"

"Long story. Don't stab me, okay?"

She only laughed; a tinge of hysteria infected her voice. "I hope that's an okay," he mumbled to himself before sliding to the front of the carriage. "Hey, you okay?"

Jerome looked up. His sweaty face was pale from lack of blood; a good chunk of flesh was missing from his left triceps. Blood soiled his armor. "I need to patch myself up . . ."

Link nodded, pushing himself backwards and leaning over the side, head protruding into the tiny window in the door. "Give me some bandages!"

Malon was pale with fright--he did not blame her. As she began to rummage in the packs around her he turned his gaze to "Sheik," who was stretched across one bench. Her bandages were stained pink-red, though her eyes were clear of any fog. "You guys alright?"

The Queen nodded. "We are fine."

Her fellow passenger straightened, handing a roll of cloth to Link. "Here." Her eyes widened, looking over his shoulder. "Link!"

Reacting on pure instinct, Link swung himself back up and rolled to the opposite side, dropping the bandages in Jerome's lap. A Rak crashed onto the spot he had just been occupying, embedding one hook into the wood that would have been the back of his neck. They crouched face to face; he was all too aware of the edge of the carriage at his back. The wolfen creature cocked its other arm back, snarling victoriously. He could not draw his sword in time and it knew it. As the hook swung forward, Link did the only thing he could do: yelling, he rolled backwards, feeling the wooden edge bite into his spine as he toppled off of the carriage.

The ground and sky seemed to flip positions. His stomach lurched as the ground rushed for his face; his arms groped desperately for a handhold--then one hand slapped against something. He grabbed at the small ledge--he could not see it, but it was the bottom edge of the door's minute, glassless windowframe--and somehow managed to grip it tightly. This handhold became a hinge as his momentum kicked in; one moment he was looking at the ground, then his shoulder popped as his swung from his desperate grip on the window, slamming his head and upper torso against the wooden door. Stars flashed before his eyes as his head rang violently. A small splotch of blood marked where his head had met the wood; he had split his lip and was bleeding from the nose.

But he was not being trampled to death--yet.

A bare three feet to his left a large wooden wheel rattled, spitting dirt. That wooden circle could break his bones as easily as a warhammer, leaving him helpless. His legs dragged in the dirt, such was his low perch; his head was barely three feet from the ground. To his right the front wheel churned violently, hurling stinging pebbles and clods of dirt at his face. _Oh shit oh shit oh shit--_

His legs scuttled towards the crushing wheel; with a gasp of effort he tucked them to his chest and slid them past its wooden dangers, letting them drag beneath the carriage itself. With great effort he managed to keep them away from the wheel's deadly embrace, but he could not fight forever. Link grunted and grasped the windowsill with both hands. Letting go meant death.

Above him the Rak snarled and turned away, leaving him for dead.

He managed to turn his sore head until he looked over his shoulder. Numerous Rak loped abreast of the carriage, though the night was too dark to count their numbers with any degree of accuracy. He winced as one noticed him; it drew closer, murder in its eyes. He was helpless.

It bared its teeth--then howled in pain as a wooden shaft sprouted from its ribs. "Link, I'm here!"

_Thank the goddesses for you, Mal._The beast veered off in pain, bleeding heavily. "Malon! Open the door!"

"What?"

"_Open the fucking door before I let go!_"

Wisely choosing to forgo replying, the farmgirl twisted the door handle and shoved. The door, Link in tow, swung outward two feet before stopping; Malon leaned half out of the doorway, bracing it open.

The Rak, noticing her intervention, reared up and prepared to cut her off at the wrists, literally. Link's eyes bulged. "Let go! Get back!"

She lunged backward, releasing the door, which slammed shut just as the creature hacked downward. Its roar of bloodlust curdled into a howl of pain as the door bashed its arm between the door and the doorframe, nearly cracking the bone with Link's momentum and weight; yowling, it retreated to the safety of the roof, nursing its arm. "Okay! Open it--but watch out!"

Again the door swung open. Link took advantage of their attacker's newfound reticence and grasped Malon's hand, mentally praying _don't let go . . ._With barely a moment of hesitation he released his hold on the door and snatched at the doorframe itself. His legs swayed closer to the wheel; another six inches and he would be sucked under. Gasping, Malon hauled him up into the carriage, panting with exertion, and slammed the door shut behind him. "You," she huffed, "are insane."

He allowed his knees to buckle over the cramped bench and wiped at the blood dripping from his mouth and nose. "Maybe, maybe not." He grinned crookedly and pulled out his sword. "Either way it's gotten me this far." Above them repeated _thuks _filtered down to their ears. "Shit, it's trying to cut through the roof."

"What do we do?"

Two splinters dropped into her hair, illustrating the top's feeble protection. _Shit._Link glanced down at his forearms, where gold glimmered from between cloth; the rags he had used to cover up his strength-boosting Golden Gauntlets had shifted in the scuffle. He clenched his fingers into a fist, feeling intoxicating strength flow through him. _Oh, why not . . ._With a sharp yell he stabbed upward, using the guantlets' strength to punch through wood and flesh as though it were paper, driving the blade upward until the crossguard met wood. The Rak's canine screech of agony pierced the night. His sword rattled in his hands; the impaled creature above thrashed in agony. Grimacing, Link twisted the sword sharply, widening the hole through wood and flesh. Blood poured from around the sword, soaking his arms and puddling hotly in his lap; a small stream spattered his cheek. He flinched away, eyes hard.

Malon choked, "_My goddesses . . ._"

Ripping the blade free, Link repeated the attack; the Rak screamed again, thrashing wildly. He jerked his sword back out of its flesh and shouldered open the door. Malon gasped, "Where are you going?"

"Up. Stay here and watch the Queen." Not waiting for a reply, Link leaned out of the open doorway, one foot braced on the bench and the other in the open window; gripping the top edge as an anchor, he managed to raise his upper chest above the roof. The Rak thrashed before him, spraying blood in its death throes. Seeing him, it tried to lunge; he cut off its attack by cutting off its head. The corpse shuddered and was still.

He hauled himself on top of the roof and shoved the corpse over the edge, kicking its head behind it. Wiping the blood absently from his face--the blood coating his hands just smeared it around--Link surveyed the hell roiling around him.

Thankfully the horsemen had caught up to the carriage, forming a loose circle around it and attacking any creature that ventured too close. Just inside their perimeter galloped Epona, devoutly follwing Link and Malon. _Good girl._Still, an unabating swarm of Rak surrounded them, pressing in from all angles; they could not hold out for long as they were. Thinking back to Kain's warning, Link recognized the depth of its truth; exposed as they were out in the open, eventually they would be brought down and slaughtered. If they could somehow make it to shelter, however, some place where they could try and hold their own until dawn--they could have a chance. Kneeling, he laid his sword across his lap and pulled out his bow, nocking an arrow to the string. Finding a target, he pulled the string back until it nearly caressed his cheek and sighted down the shaft. With a musical _twang_the arrow leaped free, stabbing deep into a Rak's hindquarters. Reminding himself to compensate more for their movement he readied another arrow.

Still, only half of his mind dwelt upon his archery. The other half was desperately pouring over his memories of Hyrule Field. A town was not possible; it would likely be already overrun by Reval Keshan. _Shit. Wait, what did Jerome say about that farm? _Link slid forward and rapped on Jerome's helmet, yelling over the din. "Hey, what where you talking about earlier?"

"What?"

"About the farm, or a hermit, or something. I don't know, but we need to find someplace defensible before we're ripped to shreds, you know?"

He laughed harshly. "Way ahead of you. We're en route--it can't be that far." Link noticed the unvoiced _I hope_ at the end of his sentence. _Oh, goody . . ._

"Nice. Hurry!"

"I am!"

Link resumed his archery, trying to thin the forces surrounding them; still, for every Rak he managed to kill two more seemed to leap into being. After a moment he heard a human voice yell in pain; he whirled, eyes wide, bow tense and ready to fire. Ren smothered a wound along the side of his neck, glaring vehemently at the tumbling wolfen corpse behind him. "Fucking dog!"

_He's fine._

"There!" Link whirled back to Jerome, who was pointing to a low house just a few hundred yards in front of them. There was no town or farm anywhere in evidence; apparently the owner preferred privacy. Small, dark, uninhabited and probably dangerous--_Looks like home to me._ "Get ready, we're almost there!"

Returning his bow to his quiver, he pulled free a double fistfull of bombs from a pouch. _If it worked once . . ._

They jolted to a halt nearly simultaneously. "_Get inside! Go!_"

Rubbing their fuses into flame, Link hurled the black orbs into the pack of Rak around them and dropped off of the carriage. He and Malon hauled the Queen from her wooden prison and sprinted to the house. The Rak, surprised, only fought halfheartedly against the others' desperate defense.

Kain shouldered open the door with a splintery _craaack_ and waved them all inside, slamming the door behind them. Link cried, "Brace--"

A rippling blast shook the squat house to its foundations. The lone window imploded, spraying glass inward on a gust of scalding air and blinding light. Malon stumbled, dropping Zelda to the ground. An immense shock wave of compressed air and shrapnel broke upon the house's front, splitting the weaker boards and sending clods of dirt and flesh flying like cannonballs. Nearly everyone was shaken to their knees, covering their heads.

Then silence.

"Okay," Ren panted, "what the _fuck_ was that?"

Link laughed somewhat ashamedly. "I guess I dropped too many bombs."

"Yeah, no shit!"

"Is everyone--"

_**I'd duck if I were you, asshole. These ugly mothers are about to blow.**_

Link's eyes bulged. "_Get on the ground!_"

The world exploded.

White-gold light seared his eyes, temporarily blinding him; a massive hammer of sound smashed into his ears, drowning out all thought. It felt as though thousands of hammers were beating him all through his body--he could not breathe or even as a wave of pain roiled through his system. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Ears ringing, Link cracked open his eyes. The house was gone--aside from its four corners the building had been blasted inward. He coughed, looking around them sorely; they should not have survived. Smoldering rubble piled all around them. Not believing his eyes, he wiped away the grit from his face and looked again. It seemed as though he was looking through a pane of glass--_oh, Zelda_. A few feet away the Queen sprawled painfully across the ground; the symbol on the back of her hand glowed with power as she held a glowing shield of magic around them. Noticing his gaze she smiled wearily and fainted.

_Shit._ The barrier around them flickered and dissolved into mist; they were exposed once more. _She just saved our lives._

"What--" Alva coughed hoarsely on the smoke billowing around them "what was that? Was that you?"

"No," he replied. "I don't know. Get up, we're vulnerable." _**Are you sure bout that, Mr. Big Fucking Hero?**_

Link shook his head groggily and hauled himself to his feet as the others did the same. Kain repeated Alva's question.

"I said I don't know. I have no clue."

"Then who was it?"

"I don't--" The enraged howl of a Rak cut off his gasping reply. "We'll talk later. There's more."

He turned awkwardly to face the oncoming attacker's sound. "We need to get ready, here comes more!"

Ren grumbled, "Oh, goody, 'cause this place is about to go up in flames, you know?"

_Shit._ "Get out!"

They scrambled en mass over the slowly burning wreckage around them, only to slide down into what seemed to be a smoldering new moat around the house's foundations--actually a long crater caused by a ring of explosives set around the house. Thrusting this insight aside, they emerged into the slightly fresher air, weapons raised.

They were almost alone.

Only ten Rak stood before them; the swarm that had pursued them had vanished, either killed or frightened away from the explosions. _Ten too many._Link tightened his grip on his sword and nudged the unconscious Zelda to the edge of the crater. Only twenty yards separated his group and the Rak; both groups stood tense, weapons ready. One moment stretched into a hour.

The Rak charged.

"Malon, stay with her!" With a cry Link and the rest sprinted to meet them. _Goddesses, I don't even know if they know how to fight--_

They did.

Link met the lead Rak's hooks with his shield and shoved forward, driving it off balance. It tumbled backward with a surprised grunt. Raising his sword, he stepped forward for the kill--then ducked to the side, feeling a breath of air slip across his cheek as another attacker tried to hack open his skull. He swung, aiming to split its chest open diagonally, but only cut air as it leaped backward with uncanny agility. Spitting a curse he scrambled in pursuit.

Ren and Alva fought together as though one; the two stayed close, protecting each other yet attacking with startling efficiency. It almost seemed as though they were a single creature, constantly flowing around each other amidst a flurry of blades. Kain, however, was the first to draw blood; the Rak attacking him found trying to tackle him was a mistake. Almost effortlessly the man snatched it out of the air by the throat and slit open its middle, eviscerating it; he tossed the dying creature aside even as it snatched hopelessly at its entrails. Link, seeing this from the corner of his eye, reminded himself to remember his stunning strength, speed, and brutal skill. If he turned on him--he parried another slash and blinked. _Stay focused._

Ren snarled at the Rak before him and slammed his sword against its hooks midswing. The deadly weapons bounced away in a flash of sparks, leaving the creature exposed; he slashed it from shoulder to opposite hip. Hot blood splashed his hands. Alva spun past him, meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second; he shoved aside the soon-to-be-corpse and followed. As she traded blows with two Rak, managing to hold her own, he barreled in from their left and swung hard and low. One Rak collapsed, torso and legs held together by a scant few inches of skin. As the other turned, surprised, Alva stabbed it just under the armpit, rupturing its heart. It collapsed with a gurgle. "Nice!" she cried over the din.

Link shouted, "_Duck!_" Ren dropped to his knees, feeling something whirl past his head. He turned in time to see a Rak raise its hooks for the kill, grunt, and stare at the sword sprouting from its throat. Link kicked the corpse aside. Ren grinned, "Thanks!"

The Rak fought as a mob, not thinking nor planning. At first this worked to their advantage; they had superior numbers. However, as their would-be prey fought back with surprising skill, whittling their numbers away, they began to panic. They lacked cooperation, attacking individually; thus they were doomed. Soon only one Rak stood, frothing at the mouth; it lunged for Antin with a roar only to be neatly decapitated by Kain. It crumpled to the ground, spurting blood; they had survived. Again.

Panting, Link asked, "Is everyone okay?" He blinked in surprise at the chorus of _yes_'s that met him; they had been freakishly lucky to escape unscathed. He wiped the blood from his face. "Um, that was really lucky."

"Yeah--"

"_Hello?_ Do I get no credit for saving your fucking lives? I mean, shit on a stick--I rode really fast to get here, assholes! You'd think you'd be a _tad_ more gracious, ya know?"

Link's stomach dropped. _I killed you, dammit . . ._

"Who are you? Thank you for helping us." Kain turned back to the smoking wreckage of the house, where the voice seemed to be coming from.

"I'm the skeleton in li'l Linky-poo's closet. And I don't mean that other one with the butt-fucking."

"Oh, _ha, ha,_" Link growled. "Funny."

"Oh, you know they don't call you fairy boy just 'cause of the little firefly you used to have." A man stepped out of the rippling clouds of smoke. "_I'm_ Link."

The others were shocked into silence. Standing before them was a mirror image of Link, identical in every way from head to foot, yet _different._ Dark. His eyes glowed blood red instead of blue; his garb was black instead of green; his hair black shot with silver instead of blond shot with black. Close inspection revealed that his body was _flipped_--the black hilt of a sword shone over his right shoulder rather than left. Even his hair was loosely parted on the opposite side. Yet he seemed to radiate a kind of malevolent humor, as though he would tell a person a hilarious joke, then laugh as he slit their throat. Malon's hair stood on end.

Dark Link grinned at their shocked, perplexed expressions. "What?" His canine teeth seemed extended, almost fanglike.

His lighter counterpart warned, "Stay back. This thing's a murderer. He'll try and kill us all if we give him the chance."

"If I'm a murderer, then so are _you_, Mr. Hero." His voice was barely lower and slightly distorted from Links but neverless essentially identical.

"Shut _up_. I killed you. You aren't me. You're a fucking psychopath."

"Maybe. But that's all relative, isn't it? Besides, if I wanted to kill your little friends I would've left you to those furry little bastards."

"Wait," Kain interjected. "What are you, his twin?"

"I guess that's one way to say it. See," he began walking closer; Link bristled, "there used to be a big bad evil person who ruled here. Mr. Hero kicked him out. _But_, that big bad evil dude tried to stop him. One of the ways to stop him was li'l old me."

Link growled, "He's a manifestation in shadow of every bad thing in my soul. Anger, lust--"

"My particular favorite."

"Shut up. Hate, you know, and all that stuff." He grit his teeth. "Everything we don't want in a companion."

"Aw, such hostility! I just saved your lives and you treat me like I tried to kill you!"

"You already have. Several times."

"See, aha, that's understandable," Dark Link smiled placatingly, still slowly inching forward, "but only if I'm a suicidal dipshit. I'm in your head, you know. A little bit, but enough. I know what's going on with this black goopy shit. I actually ran into a few, you know." He grinned widely. "That was fucking _awesome_. See, I can get quite a racket goin' here, you know."

"I don't want to--"

"Fuck you. See, I like killing shit." His mouth stretched into an even wider grin, baring seemingly too many teeth until he resembled a shark. "It's fun. I like killing people even more than killing the random first-random-creature-I-see thing. In fact I fucking _love_ killing people, just as much as your little green friend here likes saving them. So here, I go with you guys--whoever the hell you are--and kill some people infected with the black shit, I get points with the Royalty, get rich, get some hero status, get laid, and all that stuff. For _killing_ stuff--I'd be doing it anyway."

"Goddesses," Link breathed, "are you just stupid, insane or both?"

He did not bother to reply. "You do know how badly we need help, Link," Kain intoned.

"Look, this bastard'll cut our throats the second we turn our backs on him!" Link turned partially towards him, gesturing, "He's a psychopath!"

And so the mistake was made.

As soon as Link's eyes left his doppelganger he leapt into action. Dark Link sprang forward, knocking aside his "twin's" loosely held blade and plowing his shoulder into his chest; Link went tumbling backwards into Ren and Alva, knocking the three to the ground in a tangled heap. The shadow ducked Kain's stroke at his head and rolled forward--directly for Malon, Zelda, and Jerome. The guard he sent hurtling to the side with a Gauntlet-powered swing of his arm. Malon only had time to gasp and cringe backward before he grabbed her around the throat and hauled her between him and the group, holding his unsheathed blade to her throat.

Dark Link bellowed laughter. "You were going to _believe me? _You were actually gonna fucking _let me help you?_"

Link yelled, "Let her go!"

He grinned and tapped Malon's throat with the edge of his ebony-colored sword. "I wouldn't do anything, Mr. Hero." Still chuckling, he winked at him. "Don't want anyone getting hurt, do ya?"

"You bastard!" Malon cried. "Let me go, you damned bastard!"

"Oh, feisty," he growled in her ear. He laughed again as she shuddered in his grip.

Link snarled, "You will regret that."

"Oh, bite me." Hauling his hostage slowly backward, he chuckled lowly, "Besides, she's getting the better end of the deal, at least compared to _you_ poor fuckers."

Crawling to his feet, the shadow's Hylian counterpart frowned. "Deal?"

Antin scooped Zelda into his arms, ready to move if he seemed dangerous.

"What," Dark Link smirked, "did you think it would let you off _that_ easy?" His red eyes looked up and behind them.

Link froze. _Oh, dear goddesses--_

_He's just the distraction_.

His stomach dropped into his boots. Slowly, as if in a dream, he turned around. _It's huge--_

A muscled hand four feet across at the palm slammed into him from his right, monstrous fingers thicker than his neck wrapping around his torso and tightening into a massive, crushing fist. He tried to scream in pain but could only wheeze as the breath was squeezed from his lungs. The ground dropped away from his feet; suddenly he was twenty feet in the air, eye to eye with the beast. He gasped, trying in vain to draw breath; all he saw in his panicked state was a gaping maw full of jagged teeth and a sole blood-red eye perched above it. It roared deafeningly, fetid air scalding his face--his ribs were about to cave--

Jerome saved his life. With a cry he rushed the monster, bracing his spear with his one good arm against his side. The steel tip sank nearly a foot into the creature's pebbled side. Black-laced blood bubbled sickeningly around the spear shaft; the immense creature--cyclops--roared again in anger and backhanded him with its immense fist. Link heard the man's bones pulverise with a wet, squelching crunch.

The cyclops loosened its hand momentarily, distracted by Jerome's rush. Link screamed in anger at the man's sacrifice, forcing the emotion into a power--it burned, _it burned_--and _pushed_ it forward.

The creature's skull disappeared in a growing ball of red-white light, bursting into flames. Convulsing, it threw Link haphazardly to the ground. As the others backpedalled it screamed in agony even as the flames devouring its skull grew stronger; finally with a blinding flash and roar of flame its skull exploded. Chunks of seared meat rained to the earth. The titanic headless corpse tottered, swayed drunkenly, and crashed to the ground.

Silence.

Link coughed hoarsely, rolling into a ball and hugging his ribs as waves of pain wracked his body. After only a moment he forced himself to his knees. "Hey," Alva called, "you okay?"

He nodded mutely and let himself be hauled to his feet, but only glared over her shoulder. Dark Link stood grinning--_oh, I'm gonna rip that smile off your face_--a small distance away. He still held Malon captive.

_This is the longest day I can remember._ "Let her go," he called, anger burning bright in his voice. "You're next."

"Hey, now, no need for the hostility. I was blackmailed." _Oh, blackmail my ass_. "Look, you can go." The shadow made the mistake of releasing Malon without backpedaling.

"Screw _you!_" The redhead whirled around and punched Dark Link square in the jaw, staggering him backwards. "I'm gonna _castrate_ you, asshole!"

"Jeez! Hey, just a sec--" he ducked another fist "--just a second, okay? Wait!"

"Fuck waiting, you just held me _hostage!_" The shadow leaped backwards, out of range.

"Woah, woah, woah. Hear me out, castrator of men."

"Oh, a cheap joke ain't gonna help you out, you stupid fuck." Still she held back.

Link barked, "What now? You've lied once. I'm gonna kill you."

"Make that a party," Ren added.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Dark Link held his hands up somewhat placatingly. "Look, this black shit caught me by surprise when I was, ah, touring outside Kakariko. Caught me with my pants down, so to speak. It was gonna send big bubba there--" he pointed with his chin at the decapitated cyclops "--after you anyway if the rest failed. I hatched a deal with it. Saved my skin. Apparently yours too."

"Bull_shit!_ You just tried to get us killed--twice!"

"They would've attacked anyway. Besides, the bombs were my idea." He winked. "There were _many_ more of those doggy guys, you know. I couldn't escape myself so I saved you to save me."

"Saved?!" Link cried, "_Saved?!_You ambushed us with some sort of cyclops thing! You took Malon hostage! You got Jerome killed!"

He shrugged. "Him or all of us."

"There is no us. There's you, and there's the rest of us. You're a homicidal maniac, we aren't."

"Link." He hitched into silence, surprised that Zelda had remained conscious enough to speak. "He's not lying, you know. And we could use two of you."

"See? Even your Queen agrees with--"

"Shut up." He turned back to Zelda. "You know what--"

"I do. And if he steps out of line we will kill him. You killed him before, and he is made of shadow--vulnerable to my light. We can use him."

Link cursed and turned away, pacing. He was exhausted, in pain, extremely angry and pained with guilt from Jerome's death; he knew this, and was aware that it was clouding his judgement. Still, Dark Link . . .

"Screw it." He strode quickly up to his doppelganger, growling, "But I'm watching you. Some one is always on watch. And if you slip up I swear I'll kill you."

Dark Link grinned blackly. "Yessir, oh cap'n, my cap'n."

--

"Yesterday had to be one of the longest days I've had in months." Link ran a hand through his hair and replaced his trademark hat, finishing, "Easily."

"Easy for you to say. It's been like that or worse for us for the last few months, what with the end of the world and all that." Ren frowned.

He nodded bemusedly. "That kinda takes the cake, I have to say." His companion only shrugged.

They had arrived at Kakariko late that night, exhausted, wounded, and calling for Impa's counsel. However, the sage had not been found; apparently she had disappeared into the Shadow Temple a few hours before their arrival, supposedly to retrieve a foolhardy treasure-chaser. Dark Link had smirked and commented, "The only thing some dipshit is gonna find down there is one hell of an ugly way to go." Link privately agreed, though he would have said so in a manner slightly less profane.

In the end Link, his "twin," Ren, and Alva met the dawning sun with more than a few celebratory beers and many slurred toasts to Jerome's final sacrifice. Eventually they had stumbled into the back room they had rented (they could only find room in a small tavern; the sole other inn was closed due to damage from the recent storm) and passed out, much to their later chagrin.

Kakariko was a relatively small and peaceful town, overlooked by its lone windmill and Death Mountain's monumental bulk. Still, it found its fair share of problems with occasional "visitors" from the temple, none of which seemed benevolent nor peaceful. A recent hash of grisly murders had the town's residents badly frightened; jumpy guards stood at attention almost everywhere, bristling with weapons and testosterone. Link was pleased by this rise in caution; perhaps they would be able to catch Reval Keshan on its way in. Of course, it could already be in the town . . . the thought made Link shudder. It could not travel so quickly--could it?

"Hey," Ren asked, "where'd that kid Antin go?"

Link shrugged, enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. The two sat on a low bench outside of the small, odd bazaar, giving them both a solid view of both the tavern and much of the town. Due to Kakariko's sloped nature--it was built on the bottom slopes of a mountain, after all--they had as good as a lookout as they could get without climbing the narrow guard tower. "Back to guard duty, I guess. Why?"

"I don't know. He seemed like an okay guy."

"Mm." The two, in a word, were bored out of their minds. "Are you sure Kain can keep an eye on--"

"They're fine. Seriously. Kain's a good watchman, trust me."

"Sure." His worries remained, though he swept them to the back of his mind. "Wait--you called Antin a kid? You can't be more than a year older than him, if that. I'm gonna guess you're twenty."

Ren laughed, surprising the Hylian. "Me and the rest are a lot different than you, I think. I'm forty-three."

"Forty-what?" Link sputtered.

"Have I explained our race? The Rass?"

"No--but you can't possibly be _that_ old. Kain, doubtful, but you?"

"I don't even know how old he is. No one does. He's ancient, probably measured in centuries instead of years--some of his more devout followers claim that he was part of the second generation of Rass after our world was created."

He blinked and opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut before he could say anything. _Different worlds, different people. Besides, if I can believe in time travel I can believe that._"Rass?"

"Okay, look. I'm a Rass. So are Kain and Alva. Where I come from there are Rass and humans; we've pretty much always either been at outright war, uneasy peace, or open segregation and hatred. Humans remind me of what I've seen of the 'normal' people of your kind; I take it you and, ah, 'Sheik' are somewhat special." At Link's nod he continued, "Yeah. Humans are like you, except without the ear tip things. They're rounded, like mine. Anyway, you live to be, what, sixty, eighty?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so do humans. Rass, though, can live almost indefinitely, if we're lucky. A select few can stay like Kain, almost stopping aging at some point; most don't get the chance, given our dangerous times. In general we're stronger, faster, more flexible, and all that stuff. Kind of like version two of humanity, to sound like a racist ass." Link shrugged. "Kain, though, he's . . . special."

"Special?"

"He is--was, he's different now, but I don't know how--the most powerful mortal creature. Period. I mean, he could take down an empire single-handedly if he wanted to. Freakishly strong and fast and smart and all that. I haven't seen a weapon he couldn't pick up and wield like an expert. I mean, he's almost immortal--we heal pretty fast, but his wounds tend to close up within minutes, if not seconds. It's kinda scary. Sometimes I'm not sure if he's just Rass or something else entirely."

"Magic? I can feel something powerful around him." _Very powerful. Scarily powerful._

"Yes. Crazy stuff--he could level mountains, I think."

"Could? What happened?"

"Well . . ." he sighed. "He's not completely sane. I know his power twisted his mind, especially after his wife was killed a _long_ time ago--he never really recovered. He's not an egomaniac or something like that, but he can be a tad off sometimes, if you get what I mean. But he has a crazy sense of calm--then again, when he looses hold he _looses hold_. People get killed. A lot of people." He shuddered.

"You wouldn't be telling me this if you thought it wasn't a possibility, would you? You're warning me."

"Yeah. But Reval Keshan did something to his head, something I can't explain--like it sealed much of his power within him. You've seen him, he's far from weak, but he can't get at his true strength--yet." A dark grin spread upon his face. "He'll get it back eventually, I think, and I pity the poor bastard that gets in his way then. Even Reval Keshan."

Link nodded slowly. _Most powerful being . . . Maybe he'll be more of a help than I thought. Even if he's not stable._ "Quite the history lesson."

Ren barked a laugh. "Gee, thanks."

Unseen to both, Dark Link smirked from halfway across town. _Idiots._ Though his lighter counterpart refused to acknowledge it there existed a connection between their minds, born of their uniquely mirrored souls. Through this he allowed short snippets of thought and sensation to drift into his own. _Rass? Who gives a damn? _He was not blind to the double-edged sword this connection posed; thus he kept his mind in check, keeping the "drifting" going into his head only, not both. He could not stand the blond whelp's mind for long--its asinine self-righteousness made him want to puke. Still, he had to poke into Mr. Big Fucking Hero (as he had named him, among other interesting "pet" names)'s mind every once in a while. It was in his nature. Besides, when he was asleep he was defenseless against any thoughts put in his head, or recollections of past, ah, fun. He would be having some morbid dreams for quite a while. The shadow smiled at the thought.

Of course, he could not really smile in his current state. The sun's overpowering light would swiftly burn him from existence due to his shadowy nature; thus he had allowed himself to loose form, melting into a cold puddle of pure shadow. Although in this state he was essentially without offense or defense--after all, he was just a blob of darkness--he loved this form; it was so _versatile._ He had no shape nor weight, and could alter his mass and makeup with concentration; any physical attack would slip through him as though he were jelly. Of course, that went both ways unless he condensed part of himself, such as his foot--he chuckled, thinking back to a past encounter with Link--into a solid form. Still, he could slip from shadow to shadow with impunity, even able to "hitchhike" on the shadows of others. As long as he was out of the sunlight he was safe.

He merged with a house's shadow, still listening half-mindedly to Link's conversation. An onlooker would have seen nothing; should there be a close observer he would see a small patch of shadow no more remarkable than that of a bird flit into the house's shade, making the latter seem slightly darker. Perhaps one would feel his presence with the little innate magical ability all people had; still, they would pass off the sudden nervousness, cold skin, and goosebumps off as a breeze playing with their senses.

Growing bored with his surroundings, he flitted across a sunlit alley and into a small shed. Burning pain seared him as the sun burnt away some of his being, though he was immediately soothed as he replaced the shadow he had lost with some from the shed. Thus healed he repeated the process, this time traveling to the neighboring house. Soon he slipped with uncanny speed across town, even sliding along beneath a housewife for a few yards. Within minutes he reached his destination, gliding past a pair of guards flanking the town graveyard's gates. _What are they guarding here? Corpses? Dipshits. _Had they not been safely bathed in the sun's searing rays he would have enjoyed butchering them out of boredom.

He had always enjoyed the graveyard. It was the buffer between the Shadow Temple and the town's inhabitants; black energy swirled through the air, unseen but not entirely unfelt. The former undertaker, Dampè, had kept the place neat and relatively clean, making it a pleasant place for the town's residents. This had aggravated Dark Link; he had snapped the man's thick neck in the night, making it seem as though he had tripped and struck his head upon a stone. He had been replaced by a man whose lax standards fit Dark's to the point where his life was not at any more risk than the others'.

The shadow looked around at the ragged rows of weathered tombstones and grinned. _Feels kinda like home to me._

--

_**Feels kinda like home to me.**_

Link blinked. _Huh?_ It seemed as though the thought had popped into his mind almost from somewhere--someone--else. With a mental sigh he pushed the oddity aside for later.

He returned to the tavern out of boredom, also feeling vaguely uneasy with Dark Link running loose among the Queen and the rest of his group. They were not aware of his full abilities; still, with Zelda disguised as Sheik they took no other risks. They had even asked for a pair of personal guards, describing "Sheik" as a survivor of an epic attack who may still be at risk of assassination. The only thing that secured their privacy, however, was Antin's vote of good confidence to the group, saying that they were above such petty suspicions as treachery.

Instinctively sweeping the room for any possible dangers--at midday in a tavern it was almost deserted--he made his way to Zelda's door. He was surprised to find two guards already at the door; it was very fast service for such a sleepy town. He nodded to them, explaining, "I brought her here. You can let me pass."

The men were about to protest when Zelda's voice drifted from inside the door, cutting them off. "Let him in, he's with me." They were not used to her unusually sharp senses; with a surprised murmur one opened the door for him. Link nodded his thanks and stepped inside, shutting it behind him.

He sat in a small chair beside the bed--the only pieces of furniture in the spartan room. "Hey, how're you holding up?"

She shrugged good-naturedly, dressed in clean Sheikah wrappings though she had her face uncovered and her hair down. Link was surprised--she had grown it out in his absence. It was nearly waist-length. "As well as I can be, given the circumstances." Even her voice was less gritty and weak from smoke.

"You look a lot better--you're not as pale."

"Thanks." She pushed herself up until she could sit with her back to the wall. "I can actually walk now, too. That's a crazy brew, in your words."

He chuckled at the reference. "Cool."

"Any news on Impa?"

"None yet. I'd go in after her, but I'm still exhausted and that place is a labyrinth; I'd probably miss her anyway. Besides, she knows the place like the back of her hand. She'll come out in a bit."

"Yes, I know . . . I'm just worried because she usually does not stay down there for so long, even if someone's gone missing. And with whatever's going on here there's quite a few ugly possibilities." She sighed. "How is Castle Town?"

"Fine, according to the guards. The people are scared--everyone's scared--but I've sent word that you're alive and in hiding 'somewhere safe.' "

"Were there any other survivors?"

He shook his head solemnly. "None from the castle. You were lucky."

She leaned back and sighed, shutting her eyes in a moment of grief. "Hundreds dead, then. _Hundreds_. And to top it off the country is headless."

"Not yet, it isn't. You're alive. Once we kill this thing everything will get better."

"Or so we hope." She leaned forward. "Who was behind the attack? You never fully explained what was going on. We were too busy being attacked, or I was out cold. I thought all of our neighbors were allies; apparently I was wrong."

"Uh, we're in a bit of a situation. A big one."

"Really?" she asked dryly. "I didn't notice amidst all the ambushes, raids, and assassination attempts."

"Ha, ha. But it's bigger than us--than Hyrule. This concerns the entire world."

"What? Tell me everything."

Link started with his ambush in the forest, explaining everything that had transpired--the ranch, the small town, the Rass, his suspicions, everything. It took well over an hour.

"So you're telling me that we're being attacked by a thing that can possess people, reanimate old corpses, and create things from flesh?"

"Yeah. And it's getting stronger as it feeds."

She waited a beat. "Are you _certain_ this is true? That it's not some sort of twisted joke?"

"Yes," he confirmed grimly. "It possessed Malon and made her kill her father and her friend. It was strong, too--hit me hard enough to send me flying. I'm lucky I didn't crack my skull."

She sighed and cursed. "If you believe it I believe it." Link's eyebrows raised at the praise. "We need to notify the army, tell them to set up defenses against invasion from potentially all sides. I'll send word to General Karsof; we're lucky he wasn't at the castle during the attack. We can set up a temporary command center here, with our backs to the mountain and the Gorons. I'll arrange for the Knights to be sent here. We'll send an envoy to the Gorons and Zora, warn our neighbors . . . Goddesses. Do you know how many fighters it has?"

"If it's taken over two or more small towns--I can essentially guarentee it has--then it has a small army. The more it spreads the bigger it gets."

She sighed again. "It's kill or be killed, isn't it? No middle ground."

"Yeah."

Her eyes hardened with determination. "Then we go to war."


	5. V: Strategy for the Apocalypse

**Enjoy . . .**

--

Reval Keshan

Chapter 5

Strategy for the Apocalypse

--

At Zelda's request two couriers were sent on their way within the hour with her orders and the promise of a substantial reward if they made the trip with all due haste. Zelda, as Sheik, Impa's second in command, called for a meeting of all military personnel in the town later that evening; she wanted to assess their current situation. They could not return to Castle Town, as it had already been infiltrated by Reval Keshan; hopefully Kakariko would hold for a while longer. She sent for the current head of command, High Knight Roscin, to reevaluate the town's defense.

A quarter of an hour after she sent for him the High Knight rapped on their door. At Zelda's word he entered, dressed in the strong yet ornamental armor befitting his post. He appeared to be in his middle thirties; a severe red goatee rode his strong chin. With strong, noble features and his crisp, disciplined manner he was everything one would come to expect to see in a Knight. Link rose from his seat and sat somewhat protectively next to Zelda on the edge of the bed, gesturing to his vacated chair. The man only saluted, stiff at attention. "Please do not encumber us with such stiff formalities, Roscin. Sit," she beckoned from the bed, her face again covered with her headwrap; the man had been to the castle to see the Family several times and would have recognized her without it.

Surprised at such a breach in typical military manner, the man nodded and sat. "Yes, ma'am. You called for me? Excuse me if I do not recognize you."

"It is of no consequence--we have never met. I am Sheik, second in command only to Impa, with whom I know you are familiar." Link silently noticed the new formal lilt to her tone and vocabulary; it was a sharp contrast to when they were alone. "Do you know Link?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's saved my life twice, if I recall correctly." The green warrior shrugged modestly.

"Are you aware of his rank?"

"No, ma'am. I thought he was a peasant."

"For services to the Royal Family he was appointed the somewhat informal rank of General. Please be sure that you and your men respect and obey him as such."

"Yes, ma'am. Good to see you again, sir. You never told me of your rank."

He shrugged again. "It wasn't pertinent. And please don't call me 'sir'--I'm just Link, thanks."

"Yes, sir--sorry."

Zelda resumed, "Since you appear to know each other fairly well I'm afraid we must get down to the matter at hand. Though you may not be aware of it we have a crisis on our hands."

"Crisis, ma'am?"

"Yes. As of now we are at war."

"With who? The people who attacked the Castle?" His brown eyes widened.

"Yes. It was a creature known as Reval Keshan."

"A creature?" The man raised one eyebrow doubtfully. "Nothing exists that could--"

"Unfortunately it does exist, Roscin, and it's going for all of Hyrule and her neighbors--specifically, however, it is moving towards Kakariko as we speak."

He paled. "Are you sure, ma'am? We can't defend against something that took out a fortress--this is just a town."

"Yes. We were ambushed on the way here and barely survived. It will come again, and this time with more forces. We must be ready for any and everything it will try and throw at us."

"What do you want me to do?"

Over the next two hours the three of them planned Kakariko's defense. Fifteen minutes after that their arrangements began to manifest themselves. Many of the guards previously patrolling the town's interior were relocated to keep watch atop the town walls. All gates to the outside were shut and barred; none could enter or exit without the approval of a guard and the company of another person. Several teams of two horsemen each were sent to the many neighboring small towns to evacuate their remaining populations to Kakariko's relative safety. From dusk to dawn all caution was to be held; a curfew for all civilians went into effect with the setting sun, while patrols were doubled.

As the day grew older Link began to increasingly find himself worrying for Impa's safety, despite his earlier reassuring words. _She should have come out by now . . . Something is wrong._

Dusk drew closer. Link gathered Malon, Dark Link, Ren, and the rest of their group, telling them of the imminent meeting. They joined the gathering crowd of guards at the large town square at the windmill's base; Zelda and Roscin waved them up to join them on a wooden platform facing the square. Soon they stood somewhat awkwardly before the crowd of guards while Dark Link smirked at the shocked looks he elicited.

After five minutes it appeared that all guards that could be present were there; Roscin motioned for silence. As the small crowd--more of a large gathering--grew quiet Zelda began to talk.

"Thank you, Roscin. I am Sheik, second in command to Impa; this is Link, a general, and Kain, Malon, Ren, and, ah, Dark Link, all of whom I have bestowed the ranks of High Knight. They are all to be regarded and obeyed as such." Surprise rippled through the platform's occupants--they had not been aware of their newly found honorary status. "I am afraid I come to you with word of a crisis.

"Hyrule is now at war. As you doubtlessly know, Hyrule Castle was attacked and destroyed several days ago. Let me assure you of our Queen's safety; she is currently at risk of assassination and is thus in hiding for her own protection, though commanding through me. The creature responsible for the attack on the Castle is known as Reval Keshan. Though this will sound impossible, it is a being that can and will 'possess' individuals into its ranks, including corpses." A wave of disquiet rebounded through the gathering; Zelda waited as Roscin waved them back into silence. "It currently has the strength and numbers of a small army. It is heading for Kakariko as we speak with murderous intent."

The guards broke into a restless intensity, calling out questions and objections-- "Impossible!" "We're fucked!" and "What do we do?" drifted up to the platform in particular. Roscin barked orders and waved wildly for several minutes before their fervor subsided.

Zelda continued, "Thus, we must be prepared for any and everything. Go nowhere alone--safety accompanies numbers. Never mind the murders; I will work on that. We must have sentries and wall patrols at all times, _especially_ at night, when we are most likely to be attacked. Be sure to enforce the new curfew, as if we _are_attacked we do not need panicked civilians running amok through the streets and choking our defense. I have sent for our army; with luck they will arrive soon. Still, we cannot afford to waste time waiting for them. Be careful. If we come under attack and are at risk of being overwhelmed I will evacuate the town to the Goron City up atop Death Mountain. A small entourage and I will soon travel there regardless to request their support, and, later, that of the Zora as well.

"Please do not be afraid. Spread what I have said to the rest of the residents, but _do not cause a panic_. Fear is as great an enemy as any attacking army." She paused. "If we band together we will eliminate this menace and keep this town--your home--safe."

For a moment after she finished a surprising quiet settled on the square; the sun had set, and an intricate series of lit braziers lent the square a flickering glow. Then the place erupted into a frenzy. Roscin again fought for silence. "Shush! Silence yourselves! You may ask questions--but in a civilized manner. Quiet yourselves."

As the bustle gradually subsided Zelda picked out one guard raising his hand earnestly, as though a child in a classroom. "Yes, you," she called. "What do you want to know?"

"When does Impa come back?"

She paused a moment. "I am not sure. If she does not emerge soon we will send in a search party afterword; however, due to the dangerous nature of the Temple, that will be our last resort. . . . You. Yes, you."

"When do you think will the army be here? I signed up to be a guard, not a Knight. I'm no warrior."

"Any time between two days to two weeks. It depends if they run into any resistance along the way. . . . You."

"What do we do if we're attacked?"

Link called out, "We fight. This thing is very killable--I can say that from experience. If we keep our wits about us we can hold it off until the Knights arrive." He noticed Zelda nod her thanks.

"And if we can't hold it off?"

Roscin answered sharply, "We will," but Link interrupted. "I'm not gonna lie and say this is gonna be cake and roses. Fighting--killing--is not to be taken lightly. I believe we can hold it off, but if we can't, we will evacuate as many as possible to the Goron's safety while we delay the attackers." He shrugged. "Then we follow. The mountain is a literal fortress--if need be we can hold out there."

Roscin shot Link a sharp look; he stared the man down. _I will not delude and deceive these people to their deaths, morale be damned._

--

Zelda answered the majority of their questions, though she cut off the meeting a half hour later, citing the danger of leaving the town unprotected after dark as her reason. Link, however, could see the slight limp in her step and paleness around her eyes; she was by no means healed yet. As the guards returned to their posts Link took her by the elbow and began to gently lead her back to her room. She glared at him defiantly, as free-spirited as ever, and began to pull away--but her leg seized, then buckled; Link grabbed her beneath the arms, hauling her back to her feet. "Come on," he gently insisted. "You shouldn't even be up, let alone giving speeches."

She sighed tiredly and gave in, reaching upward to put an arm around his neck for support. "I'm fine," she still insisted somewhat weakly.

"Right," he replied, "that's why you're hiding a limp and as pale as the dead." Slowly they began to return to the tavern.

"Ugh," she groaned, "usually you're the one that's cut up and I'm the one holding you on your feet."

Link grinned crookedly. "I actually prefer it that way, masochism be damned."

Behind them the rest looked on as they walked away, perhaps sensing their desire to be left alone. Dark Link whistled a short love song, eliciting a barking laugh from Ren. "The ex-princess and the hero," the shadow groaned. "It's such a stereotypical set-up I wanna puke."

"Aw," Alva sighed. "It's kinda cute."

"How stereotypically feminine and mushy."

"What, are they into each other?" Ren asked.

Dark Link snorted. "He's drifted in and out of a hardcore crush on her over the last fourteen years, though he won't admit it to himself." He rolled his eyes, a somewhat amusing sight in someone otherwise so menacing. "He gets over her for a few years, then he gets all funky again. It's sickening but funny."

"Wait, aren't you, like, the same person? Don't you like her?"

He laughed. "She's hot, I'll give her that. I'd try for a one night stand, probably drunken, or a 'friends-with-benefits' type of thing if I was lucky. Some people think bad guys're sexy, I guess." He grinned.

Malon frowned, somewhat disgusted. "Do you think of _anything_ about women except for how to get them into bed?"

"Remember what Linky-poo said about me? Hate, sloth, all that . . . especially _lust?_ See, I'm actually better than most guys--at least I'm up front about what I'm trying to do."

"Goddesses, you're disgusting."

"While we're on the subject, if you're ever feeling a little lonely--"

"I would sleep with one of my horses before I slept with _you_."

He grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Bestiality ain't my favorite, but if that's what you're--"

"Oh, _fuck you_." The redhead stormed off angrily.

Ren and Alva stood rather awkwardly next to the shadow. "Good job," Alva commented harshly, "you pissed her off _and_ humiliated her in front of others. You have quite a way with people." The two walked off hand in hand.

Dark Link found himself to be alone; Kain had slipped away before the entire incident. "Whatever," he smirked, "I'll get her in time."

--

With a weary gaze Link looked out upon the plains surrounding Kakariko. It seemed as though two oceans were opposite each other--a smooth, flowing green sea and a melancholy, tumultuous grey ocean above its rippling surface, seperated by nothing more than the mirror's edge of horizon. The fickle wind swept both into a minor frenzy, heightening the illusion. He sighed, thinking of lives lost in defense of this bloodstained land. _Is it ever truly worth it? So much for so little?_

"Sir," a nearby sentry said, pulling Link free of his dark reflections. "I think I see something."

"Where?" he asked, straightening. It was nearly sundown; the guards would switch shifts soon. He leaned on the ramparts of Kakariko's town wall, surveying the west; he saw nothing.

"There, sir. In the tall grass." The man pointed.

For a minute he could not see; then he noticed that one small patch of grass seemed to not be bending and swaying with the wind, instead just remaining on the ground as though anchored to the soil. He squinted but could not pinpoint the patch's identity. "I see it but can't recognize it from this far away. Do you think it's just a wild animal?"

"I'm not sure, sir."

"It may just be a feral dog or something like that . . . Or it could be a scout." He clapped the man on the shoulder. "Good find. Keep an eye on it, okay? I'm going to head off. I'll tell Roscin."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

He nodded. "Please, no sir."

"Okay. Thanks."

Link descended the stairs that lead to the ground and walked off, searching for the High Knight. The night had passed uneventfully, thankfully. Nothing had been spotted, and no one had gone missing, the most obvious sign of infiltration. Impa had not returned overnight, however; he decided to himself that he would venture through the temple if she did not return by nightfall. He did not look forward to such an excursion, as the the Shadow Temple was a dark, deadly, and twisted place. One stood to loose his life and sanity if he ventured within its depths.

He caught up to Roscin touring the central square. "Hey!"

"Yes?" The man turned to see Link jog up to his side. "Oh, hello, sir."

"Please, no sir," he insisted. "Look, one of your sentries just spotted something. Could be bad."

He stopped his patrol and turned to fully face the man, stiffening in alarm. "A threat?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I'd advise you to go give them their orders--they're waiting for you."

"Sir--ah, sorry, Link--you are the senior officer, given that Sheik is currently resting from her wounds and Impa hasn't returned. It isn't my orders they need, it's yours."

_Oh, oops. Forgot about the whole "general" thing_. "Ah." He grabbed Roscin's shoulder and turned him around, jogging with him in the direction he had come. "Come with me, then. We have stuff to do."

When they arrived back at the sentry's post Link briskly asked, "Any change?"

The man nodded. "Not much, but I think it's moved a little closer. It's definitely alive, but I can't see what it is."

"Right. Roscin, find someone with a telescope or something like it; I don't want to risk sending someone out into an ambush out of what may be fruitless curiosity." As the High Knight nodded and departed Link continued, "As for you, just keep an eye on whatever it is. If it does anything you get ahold of me or my friends, all right?"

"Yes, sir."

_Why even bother with the "sir?" . . ._ "Good. I'm going to go check in with the rest; keep your eyes open."

Minutes later he knocked at and opened Zelda's door. The disguised queen sat worriedly on the side of the bed, eyes boring holes in the walls. Shutting the door, Link asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm worried about Impa."

He nodded. "I'm going in to get her. A sentry spotted what could be a scout--we can't afford to have her not here in a crisis."

She nodded wearily. "I think I may come with you."

"What? You can't. You're hurt."

She shrugged and flicked an empty pitcher with her finger. "Not anymore. I chugged the rest of the potion."

"Zelda! You could fuse up your wounds in internal scar tissue if you do that!"

"Never stopped you," she replied defiantly. "Besides, I've stretched out and there's no 'side effects.' I'm fine."

He sighed. "Whatever. That wasn't a wise choice, especially for one with the 'divine gift of wisdom.' "

"As you said, whatever."

"Look, I'm just looking out for you. I'm not letting you go down there, anyway--you're too important."

"Excuse me? I'm going whether you like it or not, Link. You aren't my mother, and I'll be fine, thank you very much." Her words carried light venom; he had accidentally aroused her defiant, rebellious nature.

"Zelda--"

"He's right, you know." Link whirled around in shock to face the newcomer. "Although it's a moot point by now."

"Impa! It's good to see you. We were getting worried."

The great Sheikah seemed as unruffled as ever. "I was held up by a wounded would-be treasure hunter. A few unruly shadows had shattered his legs with a hammer." She shrugged. "I had to splint his legs and such. It took a while for him to be stable enough to move, and then we were already deep inside the Temple."

Impa had always stood out with her steely manor and severe, dangerous looks; only a bare few knew the woman beneath the Sheikah training. She cut an imposing figure, standing an inch taller than Link and dressed in nearly skin tight Sheikah armor and wrappings. Her steel grey hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, while her blood-red eyes threatened any who would seek to even think of attacking. In a word, she was quite fearsome.

After a brief moment, however, her harsh manner dropped as a small smile transformed her from menacing challenger to benevolent sentinel. "It's good to see you, too, Zelda. It's been too long, Link."

"Same," he replied. "Jeez, how'd you get in here? I didn't hear a thing."

"I have my ways," she smiled lightly.

The two sat, Impa taking the chair while Link joined Zelda on the bed. "Now," the newcomer began, "I believe you two have some explaining to do."

_Yeah, that's Impa for ya--doesn't really beat around the bush_. The two filled Impa in on their situation; again, it took nearly an hour. When they had finished the senior Sheikah leaned back and sighed. "That is not good, to say the least."

"There's an understatement for you," Zelda replied.

"Yeah," he agreed. "So, ah, what do you think we should do? See anything we missed?"

"I'm not sure that having your shadow with us is a safe option," she frowned. "He is extremely unstable and dangerous. Yet his benefits meet his risks. There's no easy solution there except to keep him under close scrutiny."

"And with the rest?"

"You're doing the best thing that can be done. I would recommend waiting here until the General and his knights arrive, then taking a small detachment and heading to the Gorons and Zoras. We cannot risk traveling without an escort or leaving the town even partially vulnerable."

Link nodded. "That's what I'd say we do, too."

"Then that's what we do," Zelda said. "Is there--"

Their conversation was interrupted by a panicked rapping at the door. "Sir!" a voice cried, "We're under attack!"

--

"Fuck, I thought we'd have more time to prepare," Link spat as they ran towards the western gate.

"That's what it was banking on," Ren replied grimly. The entire group of travelers had reunited en route to the town wall being assaulted. "It knows that most forces would take extra time to prepare a second attack and used that against us."

"They're attacking the entire western flank, sir," the guard gasped next to them. "I've never seen anything like them--they look like wolf-men."

_Rak. It's them, all right._ "How many?"

"At least fifty."

"Fifty?! Shit." As they drew closer to the town wall he panted, "Okay, we need to reinforce the entire length of wall. Everyone go spread out along its length, do whatever you can to keep them _out_. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Come on, go!"

The wall itself was incredibly sturdily built at twelve feet in height and six in width; a spat of bandit attacks had lead the town to reassess its defense, thankfully. A four-foot wide path ran atop it, partially shielded by chest-high barriers. Link scrambled up a ladder to its top, surveying the attack.

Rak milled around at the wall's base as far as the wall extended; guards frantically jabbed them back with long spears, faces twisted in fear. As he watched a Rak batted aside one spear and leaped straight up, landing on top of a panicked guard; soon blood spurted. _Oh, fuck._ "Keep them off the wall!" he yelled.

It was an exercise in futility. Rak were overwhelming the terrified guards' defenses all along the wall; soon they poured into the town, roaring terribly. _They're inside--they'll go for the townspeople. Shit, it'll be a slaughter! _However, the Rak did not seem interested in escaping into the town's interior; instead they hacked at any guard that came in reach, driven blind with bloodlust. Link ripped free his sword and shield, then bounded down into the fray.

He lunged forward and slashed downward; a Rak, surprised, tried to leap away but howled as its arm slapped wetly to the ground. Grimacing, he hacked open the creature's torso and kicked aside the corpse, turning to face yet another Rak. _They're everywhere--_

The creature's eyes glimmered malevolently in recognition. It howled to its compatriots and prepared to strike. _What, they're focusing on me now?! _Before either could move a spearpoint erupted in a spray of blood from below the beast's chin; it collapsed with a gurgle. Antin nodded to Link and dropped his spear, pulling free a sword and whirling back into the melee.

"Good kid," Link laughed harshly, then parried a hook with his sword and rammed the edge of his shield into the Rak's head, sending it staggering backwards; seconds later its corpse collapsed, minus a head. Blood spattered his face.

A few yards further down in the wall's wide shadow Dark Link mirrored his action and laughed, relishing the blood on his face. "Now _this _is my kinda party!" he laughed, eviscerating another Rak.

Ducking a two-handed swing, the shadow nimbly danced to the side and cut its leg off just above the knee. "Shouldn'tve come into the shadow, doggy," he smirked, pinning it to the ground through the chest. Looking up, he called to Link, "Enjoying yourself, Mr. Hero?"

Link yelled in reply, "You _like _this?" He paused as he blocked a stab and split open his attacker's torso from groin to throat. "You're a sick bastard, you know that?"

His shadow threw back his head and bellowed laughter. One Rak tried to slash him in his distracted state; he swayed backwards, the hooks missing his throat by a bare inch, and stabbed it through the eye. "Oh, you fucking know it!" he laughed in response.

The hylian shook his head. _He's completely insane._

_**So are you, Mr. Big Fucking Hero.**_

_What? Get out of my head, you bastard!_

His own twisted laughter echoed through his skull. _**I told you we're "linked," pardon the pun, didn't I? What are you, stupid? Oh, and duck.**_

_What--_

He dropped to the ground, flattening himself. The Rak around him screamed and burst into flame, sliced neatly in two. Link glared at his shadow, who smirked, sword still thrumming with magic. _**Gotta love that spin, huh?**_

_Fuck you, you almost killed me!_

_**But I didn't, now, did I?**_

Grumbling, he regained his feet and slashed viciously at another attacker. _Barely._

_**Good enough for me.**_

_Not for me._Link cut down another Rak and raised his sword, ready to swing at the rest, only to find--_They're running away?_

_**Oh, come **_**on! **_**I'm having fun!**_

As though on cue the remaining Rak--at least twenty five, if not thirty--pulled away from their respective fights and vaulted over the wall, sprinting for the horizon. Shocked, Link clambered up a ladder to the top of the wall and mutely watched them go. "Sir," a guard rasped next to him, "where are they going?"

"I don't--" _Fuck. _"Oh, shit--I think it was a distraction."

"Sir?"

Eyes wide, he turned and cried, "A distraction--while we were here they were somewhere else. I need you to go take a few others and check every building in town for a disturbance, okay? Someone missing, stuff like that. Go."

"Yes, sir."

--

"We were lucky. Very lucky." Link wearily thumped onto a barstool. "A beer each, please."

"Coming up."

"They did pretty well for relatively untrained guards," Ren amended, sitting next to him. "How many did we loose?"

Two half-clean mugs of foaming beer slid in front of them. He nodded his thanks to the retreating bartender. "Forty-three out of a whopping total of ninety-five." He sighed. "And they thought the town had too many guards . . ."

"Hey, better forty-three than ninety-five."

"Still. And we only took out twenty-two Rak. Most of which, I think, were killed by me, you, Alva, and the rest."

"They're only guards, Link," he replied gently. "More useful as a show of force than an actual fighting group. Just wait 'til the Knights get here--they're actually trained for this kind of thing. Well," he amended, "as trained as anyone can be."

He took a hefty draft of beer, wiping his mouth tiredly on his sleeve. "That sure as hell didn't help the people at the castle."

"It can be a sneaky little bastard if it wants to."

"Maybe. I'm just worried about what it was _really_ here for."

"You picked up on that too, huh?"

"Yeah." He took another sip, thinking. "No one went missing--even all the dead are accounted for. Nothing was or could have been stolen. But it was here for something, and it got what it wanted, otherwise it wouldn't've booked out so fast."

"I was thinking that it was trying to get past us, instead of in us."

"Hm?" Link's eyebrows rose. He had not thought of that.

"Well, remember what you were saying about retreating to the, um, gore-somethings?"

"The Gorons? Yeah."

"I was thinking about that, and I realized that it may have not been going for someone in here; maybe it was going for someone up there--someone behind us. At our weak point."

"So it could get us from both sides," he finished. "If it did that we'd be screwed."

"Pretty much."

"Goddesses. That, and it just got a first-hand look at our pitiful defenses."

"Yeah. Then again, that just means it'll underestimate our forces when the Knights get here."

"_If_ they get here in time. _If_ it didn't kill the courier."

Ren shrugged. "There's nothing we can do about that. Don't worry about it for now."

"Easier said than done."

"Everything's easier said than done. Get used to it, 'cause it's not changing anytime soon."

"Heh, I guess you've got that right," he sighed.

"Look, you're doing everything you can. Let it be for a while, okay? There's nothing else you can do for it, and obsessing over it's just gonna eat away at you."

He shrugged mutely. Ren continued, "Think about something else for a while. . . . Like, ah, 'Sheik.' You two seem pretty close."

"I've known her for--" he counted mentally--"twenty-one years. I guess you could say that."

"Twenty-one?"

"It's a _really_ long story."

He sensed the topic was a sore spot for the Hylian. "Are you into her?"

"What?"

"Do ya like her?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. She's a little bit above me, anyway, what with her status and all that." He smirked, "Besides, she could have any refined, gentlemanly prince guy she wanted. I'm just, well," he waved at his dirt stained clothes, "_common._ Even if I did like her, she deserves better than some drifter."

"She doesn't seem to be the snobbish type that'd care about that. Especially after twenty-one years. And you sure as hell aren't your average drifter guy--even an emotionally deaf guy like me can tell that."

"Still. I never said I liked her, anyway."

"Didn't deny it, though."

"Okay, look, I don't like her, okay? Satisfied?" He scowled, suddenly in a foul mood, and slapped a few rupees onto the bar. "I'm going to bed."

Ren silently watched him retreat to his room, brows raised. "A bit sore, I think," he mumbled, sipping his drink.

Link rapped on the door and bustled through, forcibly shutting the door in his wake. It suddenly felt as though a team of miners were trying to dig their way out of his skull; he leaned tiredly on the door, shutting his eyes. "Link? Are you okay?"

His eyes snapped open. Zelda sat on the bed, hair down and face unmasked. _Of course, dumbshit. You're sharing a room so you can be a big bad bodyguard._ "Hm? Yeah, sure. I'm fine. Sorry I barged in--" he began to open the door to leave.

"Hey, it's okay, this's your room too. Come on, stay. Are you sure you're okay? Your eyes are bloodshot."

He stopped halfway out the door and hesitantly stepped back in, shutting it behind him. "No, really, I'm fine. Just tired."

"Come on, sit down. You look drained."

"Really--"

"_Sit_, Link." She smiled, exasperated. "Honestly, you need to take care of yourself, too, you know? You're so busy helping other people you neglect yourself. Come on, I won't kill you." She waved to the open spot beside her.

"Okay, okay. I'm fine, seriously. Just a little beat up."

She raised an eyebrow. "Judging by your history of understatement that means you're beat to hell, doesn't it?"

"I never--"

With a growl she sprang to her feet and grabbed him by the tunic, pushing him until he sat on the edge of the bed. Standing with her hands on her hips, she ordered, "Okay. Take it off."

"What?" Color rose to his cheeks. _Get your mind out of the gutter._

"If you won't take care of yourself I will." When he failed to move she rolled her eyes--Link noticed with some surprise she had magically returned her eyes to their original deep blue; he had caught her preparing for bed--and sat next to him. He could not help but flinch in surprise when she began to work at the sword belt that draped diagonally across his chest.

"Um, what're you doing?"

"Helping you. Stop squirming, it's not like I haven't seen you shirtless before."

"Yeah, in seven years--_ow_, watch what you're touching, there!"

"See?" She frowned. "I barely grazed you and you're wincing. Why haven't you gone to the healer?"

The Queen finally defeated his sword belt buckle and set his sword and sheild on the floor. "She was busy with people who were actually hurt."

"Yeah, I'll be the judge of if you're hurt or not. Take your gauntlets off." She reached for his belt buckle.

"Woah, hey now, I'll get that, thanks." He recoiled and began to fumble with his belt. _No, you aren't goin' anywhere in that region, you aren't._

Zelda gestured to the small nightstand, which held a pitcher of water, rags, bandages, a needle, and thread. "I know you, so I took the liberty of grabbing these."

"Quite the planner, aren'tcha?" he mumbled, pulling his belt and the pouches it supported free with an air of hesitation. With a frown he began to pluck at his gauntlets.

"I got those." She began to fiddle with the catches, faring much better than him with access to both hands at once. Soon the heavy Golden Gauntlets slid off and joined his sword and equipment on the floor. "Okay. Off."

"Huh? Come on, I'm--hey!"

"Stop moving." She tugged his tunic up and off of his shoulders. "See, your shirt's red--I knew you were hurt! Off with it."

"Zelda, I'm fine. Really."

"Then there won't be a problem. Off." She jerked her thumb upward to illustrate the point.

Link sighed and tugged his stained, soiled white shirt off. Zelda's breath hitched. "_Goddesses,_ Link! You look horrible!"

"Gee, thanks." His muscled chest was a medley of bruises, fading from an angry black to a sore blue-purple. Small cuts and gashes marched malignantly across his body, some not quite scabbed over and weeping red. The wound on his forearm from what felt like years ago had been repeatedly pulled open and had become infected, crusting over with yellow-grey scabby pus. Every inch of him seemed to be cut, gouged, scraped, or bruised.

"Why didn't you patch yourself up? You know better than that!"

"You guys needed more help than I did."

She rolled her eyes again. "Okay, lay down. You did this to me, now I'm paying you back."

"Really--"

"_Down._" She pushed him backward until he gave in and let her stretch him out over the bed to her content. "There. Just hold still for a while, okay? Don't squirm around."

He grunted an acknowledgement. _I don't really care what you do, just keep your eyes above my waist. _"Hey, watch your fingers. That's tender, thank you very much."

"For the Hero of Time you have quite the low pain threshold, Link." She dipped a rag in water and began to flush the dirt from his wounds. "What'd you do, get dragged behind a horse?"

"You were there."

"Yeah, but I wasn't really conscious. I just remember you stabbing the roof."

"I got dragged beneath the carriage for a while. Got a little banged up."

"A little? Jeez, there isn't a square inch of healthy skin here. It looks like you went for a swim in a lake of razors."

"Sounds fun."

"Ha, ha. Your masochism knows no bounds."

"I--ow, watch it--blame my title. It boosts the ego."

"Quit complaining. And I'm not the one who made the title."

"Hey, neither did I!"

"Whatever." Her eyes widened as she traced a trio of parallel six-inch long scars that attempted to bridge his ribs and hips along his front. "What's this?"

He winced as he thought back to a vicious flying dragon. "Volvagia got me with its claws."

"Goddesses," she breathed, tracing it lightly with her finger; Link shivered in what she took to be pain. "Sorry. How'd you make it out?"

He shrugged. "I managed to kill it and Darunia got me out. Took me a little while to get better."

_You mean it nearly disemboweled you_, she thought. _He acts as though it's normal . . . I guess for him it is._ She shook her head and returned to cleaning his wounds. _He's given so much and gotten nothing in return . . . And he's never backed down, never shied away from sacrifice, all without asking for anything in return. A true hero, clichè be damned._ "Roll over. There's too many to do individually--I'm just gonna wrap you in a big bandage and hope for the best."

"Oh, goody." With a tired groan he rolled onto his stomach.

She sucked air through her teeth, back smarting in sympathy. "How many times have you been knocked on your ass, huh?"

"Too many." His upper back was a massive blotchy mass of bruising; in places the edges of his shield and scabbard had been etched into his flesh, creating a partially scabbed over red outline. Rinsing the cloth, she began to blot away the sludgy mix of dirt, sweat, and blood that oozed from the cuts. "It just looks ugly 'cause I've been too busy moving and trying not to get killed to take a bath for a couple of weeks."

"Eh, you smell better than most of the people here, even with all that."

"I guess I'm just naturally hygienic."

She wrinkled her nose and giggled. _Did I just giggle? What am I, sixteen?_ "I wouldn't go that far."

"Fragrant?"

"There we go."

"Yay for ambiguity." His voice hitched as she accidentally peeled off a small length of scabbing and pale, half dead skin.

"Oh, sorry, sorry." Zelda grabbed a clean cloth and dabbed at the slowly growing stream of red flowing from just above his kidneys. "I got a little distracted." Now it was the Queen's turn to blush softly, glad he was facing away.

"It's fine--at least you aren't sewing anything up like I was."

"Yeah, but blood, sweat, grime, dirt, and pus isn't exactly fun stuff to be scrubbing off of someone."

"Is there really anything you _do_ want to be scrubbing off of someone? It isn't exactly the coolest sport, you know."

Her eyes wandered. "Oh, you never know."

Link's eyebrows hiked upward. _Right. There isn't a dirty connotation to everything she says, you know. Keep your head on straight._

_**She **_**sooo**_** wants you, dude.**_

_This is _private_, thanks! Besides, what she said didn't really make sense as dirty._

A snort echoed in his head. _**You aren't as, ah, "promiscuous" and experimental as me, buddyboy.**_

_Did you just call yourself a slut?_

_**No, I hinted at my **_**open**_** views on modern sexuality**_, his shadow lectured primly. _**And I guess that goes for her, too . . . either she's read some interestingly dirty books or she's not quite the innocent maiden.**_

_Go away. This is awkward enough without you fouling up my thoughts._

_**That's why it's fun . . . Wait a sec--**_Link caught a brief image of Malon swatting away the hand of a burly drunk only feet away in the tavern. _**You're in luck, Mr. Big Fucking Hero. Some dipshit's pissing off Malon.**_

_So what? You'd proabably join him, knowing you._

_**So it gives me a reason to kick some ass and take some names. I'll be back, li'l ol' Linky-poo.**_

_I hope not._

--

Dark Link tapped the drunk's shoulder. " 'Scuse me, big guy."

He turned--a full head taller than the shadow and nearly twice as broad at the shoulders. "What? I'm busy, punkass." The scent of beer emanated from him in waves.

The shadow leaned far to his left until he could see past the man's huge biceps. Malon sat awkwardly in the chair draped in the drunk's shadow; her discomfort was palpable. " 'Scuse me, miss," he began with exaggerated politeness, "I couldn't help but notice this sodden _ruffian_ making untoward advances upon you, evidently arousing uncomfortable feelings within you."

"What're--"

"Do you desire his removal his removal from this fine establishment?" He smiled widely--crazily. Ren and Alva raised their eyebrows from across the room; they had been about to interfere.

"I--he'll--"

"Great! I thought so!"

"Hey!" the drunk interrupted, shoving Dark Link backwards, "I got 'er first."

The shadow grinned maniacally and struck a dramatic pose, pointing at the man's thick, scruffy beard; his ragged fingernail scraped at the black hairs. "I'm afraid, O beergut, that you are aggravating the little lady and thus my kindly old self."

"Huh?" His bleary eyes widened in confusion.

"For causing such an ugly, kaleidoscopic interference in our fragile emotional balances I must call upon the authority I wield as a _High _Knight and insist you vacate the premises."

He growled, still unsure, "Get that finger out of my face or I'll break your face."

" 'Break my face?' Such violent, offensive, and dimwitted threats may force me to employ the _severe _forces at my disposal to incapacitate your physical self."

"What?"

"Permit me to be blunt." He leaned forward, eyes glittering, and enunciated cordially, "Get the fuck out. _Now_."

The drunk responded by swinging a club-like fist; Dark Link staggered back, grinning even as black blood dripped from his nose. His near-insane laughter caused the big man to pause. The shadow stepped forward, tilted back his head, pinched one nostril shut, and violently cleared his nose of blood and mucus--directly on the drunk's shirt. Leaning forward, he cocked his head to the side so his jaw was clearly exposed and beckoned _come hither_.

Crying aloud his rage the drunk waded forward, letting loose a vicious fusillade of punches that violently whipped the shadow's head back and forth. Still, even as his lips split, cuts opened over his face, and his nose broke with a wet _crunch_ he held his huge, bloody grin.

After nearly a minute of unflinchingly being battered he dropped to his knees and pistoned one arm directly forward and into the man's beergut. Unprepared for Dark Link's gauntlet-enhanced retaliation, the drunk doubled over, sputtering curses; hopping spryly to his feet, the shadow grabbed the man's beard and hair and hauled him to the door, slamming him violently into the wood with enough force to rattle the gritty window. "So you want some action, huh?" he cackled through a mouthful of blood. Adopting a reedy falsetto he cried, "Oh, then _kiss_ me, you damn fool!"

He tugged the man's head down and mashed their lips together. The drunk squealed in disgust as Dark Link transferred the blood from his mouth to the other's in a gruesome openmouthed kiss; laughing, he twisted the doorknob and sent the drunk reeling into the night, vomiting black blood into his beard.

Wrenching the door shut, he twirled around and laughed again, wiping his mouth with exaggerated satisfaction and challenging, "Anyone else scopin' out my little redhead?"

--

"There." Zelda tied off the final knot. "Finished."

He sat up and stretched tentatively, slowly testing his movement. "Nice." His arm and torso was swaddled in bandages. "Maybe I did need a _little_ help. Thanks for the abuse."

"You're welcome," she snorted. "Now go to bed."

"What?"

"You heard me. You're exhausted--sleep on the bed tonight. We'll switch jobs for a while, huh?"

"What're you, my mother? I'm the bodyguard here." He began to stand up but was jerked back down by the impatient Queen.

"_Down._ You were coming in here to sleep, anyway, and I'm healed up now--you aren't."

"Yeah, but--"

"But nothing! You're going to lay down _now_ and I'm gonna sit in the chair, and we're gonna sleep. And if you keep complaining I swear I'll--I'll beat you with a broomstick."

Link broke into laughter despite himself. "Where the hell did _that_ come from?" he chortled. "A _broomstick?_"

"Shush," she giggled against her will. He began to get to his feet; with a playful growl she grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him flat onto the bed, pinning him beneath her in a bout of rough affection. "_You_, sir," she grinned, almost nose to nose, "aren't going anywhere."

He was suddenly very aware of how close they were, the intimacy of their positions; his senses seemed to skyrocket. Her scent drifted delicately into his nostrils; he felt the soft tickle of her breath on his skin, her hair silkily caressing his cheek, even her heartbeat from where she straddled him across his middle and held his shoulders down; he heard the whisper of her breathing; and she was so beautiful, godlike--her deep blue eyes, two infinite pools of navy, how she seemed to grow closer and closer--

Someone rapped at and bustled through the door, calling out, "Hey, Link, there's--oh." Ren's eyes ballooned. "Um, maybe I'll come back tomorrow--"

The pair on the bed looked up in surprise, eyes wide. Simultaneously they realised how they looked; Zelda rolled off of the shirtless hero as he shot to his feet, stammering, "Oh, ha-ha, no--she'd never--"

"I was just trying to get him to come to bed," the Queen explained. Ren's eyebrows shot upward. "_Alone,_" she resumed quickly, "to sleep. You know, rest. Alone."

Link laughed awkwardly, " 'Cause, you know, she's Queen. And I'm a drifter. She'd never--"

"Yeah, of course." She shook her head, "Wait, huh?"

" 'Cause, you know, you're--"

"Um, I'll come back tomorrow, okay?" Ren began to edge out the door.

"Wait, ah, no, what's up?" Link asked quickly, blushing.

He paused. "Your twin made a mess. You owe the owner twenty rudees."

"Rupees."

"Whatever. And apparently your shadow isn't forking it over 'cause he says it was intended to help Malon."

He tugged his shirt over his head and headed for the door, mumbling something about checking it out; Ren followed. Zelda sat, deflated, on the bed; she shut her eyes and sighed heavily. _Oh, dammit, Ren . . ._

Malon took Link's place as guardian in Zelda's room that night. Neither the Queen nor the hero slept.

--

The shadow plopped himself down on the stool beside Malon's, waving to the astonished bartender for a drink and sighing contentedly. "Now _that_ was fun."

The farmgirl stared at him, not sure if she was shocked more by his swollen, bloody face, casual demeanor, or earlier actions. "Um, are you okay?"

He grinned as the gashes and bruising marring his face impossibly melted into clean, unblemished skin before her eyes. Dark Link twisted his nose harshly back into its rightful upright position; with a grunt of pain and a gout of blood he appeared whole. Wiping away the blood he nodded and chuckled, "Better than okay. _Great_. I haven't had that much platonic fun in a while."

Malon chose to ignore the wording of what the shadow had said, for better or for worse. "Um, thanks, I think."

"Oh, no problem. I sure hope I can get something in return though."

"Excuse me?" she sputtered.

"You so owe me one. Next time I'm in a jam I'm coming to you."

Malon's shoulders relaxed. "Ah."

"What," he grinned, "what'dya think I was gonna say?"

"Nothing," she growled.

He chuckled to himself. "Ah, the strange youth of today, what with their dirty minds and callous groping."

"I could've dealt with him, you know."

"Sure," he flippantly replied.

"I _could_ have."

"Didn't say ya couldn't."

"You meant it, though," she insisted stubbornly.

"No, you're just so insecure about your abilities you're being defensive."

She growled into her mug, "I'm not sure this is an improvement over the drunk."

--

Five days passed.

No attack came from their front or rear; the Guards slowly began to relax, convincing themselves that their earlier defense had repelled the enemy once and for all. Despite Impa and Roscin's constant reminders to stay cautious they began to slack off, freed from the bitter fear that had motivated them thus far. Even their fallen comrades' somber burials failed to shock them into attention for long; Roscin was constantly patrolling the patrols themselves, catching all too many half-napping and distracted Guards. No matter how stern his admonishment as soon as he turned his back they returned to their foolishness--Dark Link noted that they would be surpassed as sentries by "three drunk, blind, and deaf midgets."

Link refused to acknowledge that anything had happened or would have happened on the night of Ren's intrusion. Perhaps it was for the best, as Ren privately thought; this was no time for awkward arguments or rejections between the two highest-ranking Hylians. The two were not avoiding each other, thankfully, though Link was often prone to long silences in Zelda's presence. When queried he would reveal nothing but that he was "just thinking."

The Rass collaberated with their Hylian counterparts to create a small but growing base of knowledge on Reval Keshan's tactics and weaknesses; given the creature's somewhat diverse nature it was coming along quite slowly. Around midday a rapid knocking echoed at the tavern--their somewhat unofficial base of operations--door. Link walked to the wooden barrier, asking cautiously, "Who is it?"

"Roscin. Open the door--we've got guests."

_Shit._ He jerked open the door. "Good or bad?"

"Great." He grinned somewhat crookedly. "General Karsof is here with his Knights and the rest. They're coming through the gates as we speak."

"Sheik" rose to her feet, indicating for the others to do the same. "Come, we need to meet them properly."

--

Link had to hand it to them--they did have quite an impressive air.

There had to be at least fifty Knights, riding on horseback and clad in the full armor of war; they rode under the iron portcullis two abreast, halberds and spines held stiffly erect. Behind them came the majority of Hyrule's remaining army--hundreds of peasants who had volunteered or been recruited into the military. Every man and woman among them--he was surprised to see the latter; traditionally the dangers of violence had been passed off to the men--bore some sort of weapon. He observed everything from sword to pitchfork, hammer to shovel. "I'm not sure we'll have enough room for them all."

Zelda shrugged beside him. "We have to keep them in the town walls until a more secure place can be found and readied. 'Til then, though, I think we can bunk most of them either in tents throughout town or in any homes, given the occupants' consent."

The two and their companions stood atop the small platform that had been erected earlier, the small town's main road giving them a clear view of the procession. At the admittedly small army's head rode Karsof himself, resplendent in the ornate armor indicative of his position. He was nearly completely encased in steel; plates covered all but his joints and throat, the shining metal dignified with small veins of gold worked into its surface. A similarly enhanced shield hung from his back, accompanied by a halberd grasped rigidly in one gauntlet and a sword swinging from his hip.

The General slowed to a stop at the platform's foot and turned to a man at his side and nodded; the man, evidently a second in command, turned and barked an order. The procession halted as Karsof stiffly saluted those on--and under, in Dark Link's case--the platform, evidently aware of "Sheik's" identity; they responded in kind. "No need for formalities, Karsof," the Queen assured him. "I believe you know me well enough." She introduced her companions, making sure to note their newfound ranks. "You may dismiss your men. I would assume they are fatigued from their trip."

He nodded to his subordinate, who resumed his barking, and dismounted his horse, pulling off his helmet. Malon blinked--the man was tall and muscular, yet his head was bald and his beard pure grey; black eyes swaddled in wrinkles sized the foreigners up and down. "Quite the diverse party you have there, Sheik," he noted bemusedly. "Two Sheikah, two peasants, three foreigners, and whatever _that _is."

Dark Link flashed his pseudo-fangs at the man in a dangerous warning grin. "I'd be angry if I didn't know I could snap your creaky old spine in less time than it takes for you to get your arthritic ass out of a chair."

Zelda hissed a rebuke as Karsof's face darkened. "Is that a threat?" he rumbled.

"Oh, _no_, dipshit, I'm hitting on you," he smirked.

_What the hell's your problem? This man holds the keys to the army and our hope--if you're gonna pick a fight, do it with someone else! _Link growled mentally.

_**This guy just seems to piss me off. One of those people, you know?**_

_Wipe that smirk off your face, this is serious!_

"I can have you put to death, whelp," Karsof spat.

"Oh, really?" His red eyes ballooned in mock surprise. "I'm terrified!"

Before either could continue Impa dropped to the ground and seized the shadow by the elbow, marching him away through the shade. As they turned the corner he swiveled to face the General and smiled crazily; then they were gone.

"My apologies, General," Zelda began, "he is offensive but too strong a fighter to remove."

"So I hope, Sheik," he growled in return.

Zelda turned to their impromptu headquarters. "I believe we have much explaining to do. Please come with us."

--

"_Reval Keshan_." Karsof dragged out the being's name.

"Yeah," Ren replied. "Crazy but true."

A pause. "You have to be kidding me.

"A farmgirl? Sure, I can see her falling for this. Some vagrant? Yeah, same. But _Impa? _The _Queen?_ Goddesses, I thought you had sense!"

"_Hey_," Link snapped, "watch it."

"Do _not_ question me, peasant. You do not disregard your superior officer."

"_Peasant?_You can't pull that rank bullshit here, Karsof--we're neck and neck, you know! Regardless, didn't you just say 'you do not disregard your superior officer?' "

Karsof surged to his feet, jabbing his steel-coated fist at Link, and barked, "I will--"

"Karsof! Link! _Enough!_" Zelda cried. "You are bickering like children! This will get us nowhere."

"He--"

"Sit down, General."

"That peasant--"

"_Sit down!"_

For a long moment the man did nothing; then slowly he sank into his chair, face red with rage. Zelda continued, "Do you acknowledge my authority as queen?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied stiffly.

"Then I order you with all authority I wield to accept that this creature is real."

"Ma'am--"

"Karsof!"

Veins stood out in the man's throat as he clenched his jaw. "Reval Keshan exists and is attacking. Not some army."

"Acknowledge Link's authority as your peer."

His eyes spewed venom at the man in question. "Link has the same authority I do."

"Good. Roscin?"

"Yes, ma'am?" His eyes were wide with the revelation of "Sheik's" identity.

"I need you to hold our defenses while we're away."

Karsof cut in, "Away?"

"We have been awaiting your arrival so we can send an envoy--namely, us--to the Gorons and see if evacuating the town residents to their city is feasible."

For once he nodded. "And Roscin will take my place when we leave."

"Yes, as I said."

A tense moment of silence. "With all due respect, ma'am, I have several more qualified men--"

Roscin tensed, very conscious of the rank difference that prevented him from replying. Zelda cut in, "Are you second guessing me again, General?"

His teeth audibly ground together. "No, ma'am."

"Good. Roscin knows his own town and its people, and has proven himself more than capable. And," she added pointedly, "I would appreciate it if you were more accepting of my and my compatriot's orders from now on."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very well then." She turned back to Roscin, who was basking in her praise, and continued, "As I was saying, I need you to hold our defenses while we are gone--actually, I need you to improve them. Reinforce the gates, raise the amount of patrols, perhaps even plant stakes in the ground inside the walls so if they try and jump over again they'll be wounded or killed."

Roscin nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Link could not help but marvel at the steely flame in Zelda's eyes; she was no longer just a woman but a Queen, both in bearing and manner. She noticed his stare and raised her eyebrows; he looked away hurriedly, emotions fuddled.

"And after that?" Kain inquired.

"We establish this as a stronghold and send an envoy to our allies--the Zoras are not too far downriver, and then probably the Gerudo to the far west."

Link interjected, "Termina."

"Hm?"

"We've established relations, haven't we? They need to be warned, regardless, and could lend us troops."

She nodded. "Yes, I suppose so . . . but we need to get our immediate neighbors on our side first--Zora's Domain, Death Mountain, and the Gerudo Fortress are heavily fortified. In all out war we could take shelter there."

"That time is not far off," Kain stated flatly. "We need to hurry."

"Karsof, how tired are ten of your best knights?"

He grunted, "Not too tired to leave now."

"Very well. We leave in ten minutes, then."

--

_**Gain some weight, boyo! I'm fuckin' cramped down here!**_

Link glanced down at his slightly darker than usual shadow, where his doppelganger hid from the sun. _You deserve it, so shut up and let me walk._

_**Hurry up. I'm bored and there's nothing to do but look up your pants--not a pretty sight, let me tell you.**_

_I'm not going to dignify that with a response._

He wiped the sweat from his brow, breathing heavily under the scorching afternoon sun. Turning back to survey the others, he winced sympathetically for the armored knights' sakes; their steel protection had to feel much like an oven.

They had left an hour ago; the town had shrank into a large brown blotch on the surrounding foothills, punctuated with an exclamatory windmill. _**They couldn't just make a damn road, could they?**_his shadow complained again.

_Shut up, _he grunted internally. _You aren't the one doing the work, here._ With a sigh he returned his attention to the climb, steering his way around yet another fallen boulder. _This is more climbing than walking._

_**Get over it and hurry up.**_ Link rolled his eyes in exasperation.

There was no easy path up Death Mountain; the craggy monolith had been aptly named. They found themselves clambering up splintered walk walls as often as walking, and they were never able to proceed directly uphill--all possible routes zigzagged their way up the steep slopes. The land was cracked and dusty, strewn with boulders; what paths they could follow often narrowed to thin ledges only a shoulder's width from a near-vertical plunge. The earthquakes and minor volcanic events common to the region furthered their problem.

Link stopped beneath a rocky overhang, marveling gratefully at a small, shady alcove. Leaning against the cool stone, he called out, "Ready for a break? I found shade."

"Sweet!" Ren replied enthusiastically as he approached tiredly. "It's like a mini-cave."

The two entered and unceremoniously dumped their packs on the ground, then joined them. The others soon filed in wearily, most dripping with sweat. Karsof headed up the rear, looking much like a lobster would in a vat of boiling water. _**Heh, look at that old fuck pant.**_

_Shut up. We need him to go over our strategy with the Gorons--he has the most experience._

A derisive chuckle echoed through his mind. _**Doesn't make him any less of a power grubbing little shit.**_

Link frowned, annoyed to realize he agreed with his shadow. _That may be true, but you have to respect him for the Great War, what, forty years ago--he saved many lives._

_**Any half-brain can send troops ahead of him to go do the dirty work. He's a coward--I doubt he's ever fought in all his grand fucking victories except in a training ring.**_

He shrugged mentally. _Just shut up, okay?_

"So," Malon panted, "How much farther 'til we get to the city?"

"I think we can probably reach one of their lower entrances by late evening."

"Fun," she groaned, "more climbing."

Impa cut in, "Lower entrances? I wasn't aware of any."

He clarified, "Yeah, I found a few tunnels they've made and nearly forgotten about. They're long, cold, and dark, and they'll put us down in the city's bowels, but they're preferable to--" he waved with his arm to their surroundings "--this."

"I thought this city was a stronghold," Alva interjected. "Wouldn't a bunch of tunnels leading into the city be a open venue for attack?"

"They can be sealed off at any time with thick stone doors, or, if need be, they can be caved in with explosives. Besides, Kakariko is a buffer for them from the rest of Hyrule; they'd know of an impending assault. They could probably kill off most of any army with rockslides before they could even climb half the mountain, anyway."

She shrugged. "But if something got through when we were attacked--"

"--It possibly could have gotten in there ahead of us, yeah. That's why we have these guys," he assured her, gesturing to the armored knights around him with a confidence he did not feel. "Besides, these Gorons are _tough_. Like, living-rock tough. I mean, they actually _eat_ rocks."

"Geez."

Conversation died as they all gulped greedily from their waterskins, seeking to avoid the ever-present threat of dehydration. After a short while Link asked, "Ready to go?"

"Yeah."

He struggled to his feet and slung his pack over his shoulders. Conscious of the fact that the packstraps made drawing his sword nearly impossible, he had strapped the Biggoron's sword to the pack frame; this he checked now, reassuring himself it could be unslung quickly and with minimal effort. Pleased, he--they--set out once again.

The climb was long and arduous; all too frequently they found the ground to not be quite as stable as it appeared. While crossing a thin ledge the earth had given way beneath Ren, nearly sending him plummeting several hundred feet to a bone crushing landing; had it not been for Alva's quick reflexes he would have fallen. She had managed to snatch the back of his pack, halting his fall and holding him suspended over the edge, flailing helplessly, before hauling him back to the relative safety of the ledge. He sheepishly grinned and grumbled, "Oops."

Nothing grew on the rust-red, sunbaked rock; no trees or foliage existed to provide sustenance for any other living things. Thus they encountered no wildlife--a blessing in this region, Link had told them, because the only creatures that had the tenacity to live in such a hostile environment were hardy, feral, and all too often deadly. The hylians were grateful for the lack of native tektites, large, four legged insectoid creatures known for knocking travelers off of cliffs and then feasting upon their corpses. Though the others murmured amongst themselves about those aggravating beings he held a silent dread within his gut; worse creatures inhabited the caves that honeycombed the mountain--much worse.

_**Stop worrying, pussyboy. At least I'll have some fun then.**_

_Is that all that amuses you? Killing?_

_**I'm also fond of sex, money, beer, wine, whiskey--**_

_Okay--_

_**--those burning plant things--**_

_Shut up!_

His own laughter mocked him.

Shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear it of his shadow's presence, he clambered over a boulder blocking their path and turned to offer his hand to Ren.

"Thanks," the foreigner grunted as he was hauled up. "It's too damn--heads up!"

At his warning the entire party adhered themselves as best they could to the steep cliff face at their left, covering their heads as a small spattering of fist-sized chunks of rock rattled over the edge above them and clattered their way down. Mercifully only one bounced off of one Knight's helm; he cursed and rubbed sorely at the newly dented metal.

Kain barked, "Something is above us!"

To everyone's surprise, Link replied, "Stay down--I'm going up." Quickly dropping his pack to the ground, he jerked his longshot from his belt and aimed its barbed tip nearly directly upwards. A small ruby dot danced just below the cliff edge above them.

"Shields up, heads down!" Karsof cried to his men. "Link, what the hell are you--"

With a loud _clack_and the rattling of chain the longshot's tip soared upward, lodging itself firmly into the stone just below the cliff edge with a dull _thuck_. Link shot upward, kicking off of the rock wall to keep himself from being ground along its jagged edges, and grabbed the clifftop. Assisted by his gauntlets, he hauled himself upward and out of sight.

A reptilian hiss and squeal echoed from above along with the shuffling of a small scuffle, punctuated with a sharp exclamation of pain and a muffled curse. Dust and small pebbles rattled off of the edge, clinking like dry rain on the Knights' raised shields.

"Lizafo?" Zelda queried worriedly.

"Too quiet," Karsof replied.

A small, pulsating knob of worry blossomed in her chest. _Is he--_

Link's head jutted over the edge, slightly flushed with exhertion and discomfort. "Got it," he called out.

"What is it?" the general demanded.

"I'm not sure . . . Some sort of lizard. I've been here dozens of times, though, and never seen--_augh!_" His face momentarily disappeared, popping into sight a second later. "Little bastard bit me."

Karsof rolled his eyes and motioned for his men to relax. "Good job, boy," he smirked, "you successfully captured a little rock lizard." Zelda frowned but held her silence.

"Whatever, I'll let it go then."

"Wait!" Kain interjected sharply. Link paused, apparently holding the creature with some difficulty out of sight. "Let me see it."

"What?"

"Let me see it," he repeated patiently.

The Queen studied the man's face, sensing something in his voice. As Link raised his arm, displaying a flailing, serpentine creature trapped by its throat, she noticed a slight crack in his steely reserve. The expression, however, was gone within the blink of an eye, so subtle she half doubted that she had seen anything; a slight widening of the eyes and tensing of the surrounding flesh, but in what--surprise? Relief? Anxiety?

The mountain of a man quickly ordered, "Bring it down. Carefully."

Link's head bobbed in a shrug. Still holding the diminutive creature, he fired his longshot into the rock at his feet and carefully lowered himself down the cliff, spooling out the chain at a measured pace; soon he stood before them, panting and trying to restrain a lizard in his grip. "What do you--_gah_, son of a _bitch!_"

The lizard freed its jaws from Link's palm and thrashed out of his hold, landing on all fours, and momentarily froze, surveying its surroundings. From the tip of its snout to its tail at was perhaps two and a half feet in length, half of which consisted of a long, whiplike tail. Overlapping, armor-like scales covered its body, each colored a dark, gleaming black slightly muted by grit. Speckled throughout its head and shoulders were a small number of deep red scales, lending it a eerily freckled appearance. Several small, curved spikes lined its spine, while its lean, folded legs allowed it to walk upright on two limbs or crawl along the ground, as it did now. Its sleek, triangular head seemed to possess an uncommon intelligence, while two vibrantly green eyes beheld their group, slitted pupils dilated in agitation.

Kain lowered himself into a crouch, holding out his hand to the lizard, palm upward. For a moment it regarded him with keenly gleaming eyes; then without another second of hisitation it scampered to him and swiftly climbed up his arm, resting on his shoulder and regarding the group sharply. The massive man straightened, face troubled yet pleased.

"What the hell is that, and why does it like you so much?" Karsof demanded, confused.

"A species of reptile somewhat common to a few regions in our world." The lizard blinked, seeming to hold an expression of detached reptilian curiosity.

The general rolled his eyes. "If it's from 'your world,' what is it doing here?"

"It must have escaped through a portal."

Zelda cut in, "But you said there was only one portal, didn't you?"

He shook his head. "I thought there was only one. Apparently I was wrong."

Link's face darkened. "So another portal is somewhere on the mountain."

"Was," he corrected. "It shut with the destruction of our world."

"So," he slowly enunciated, brow furrowing in frustration, "it's probably already up here."

"Yes."

"Dammit." He ran a hand through his sweat-laden hair. "What about other portals? Could there have been more elsewhere?"

"If this one exists, so could others. There is no way to know for sure."

Link's eyes widened. "I think there's another one, in the Kokiri forest."

"What?" Kain growled. "Why did you not tell us earlier?"

"I didn't know it was related. When I was riding through the forest a day or so before I got to the ranch I ran into--was ambushed by, actually--a group of creatures I had never seen before. I was raised in that place; they did not come from the woods, or Termina. They must have come through in another portal."

"Describe them."

"Kinda wolf-like, sharp claws and teeth; uh, nocturnal, stayed out of the open sunlight when they chased me through the dawn, yellowish eyes, mangy fur, nearly blew out my ears with their screeching."

Ren nodded. "They're called Loden. Apparently they made it through another portal."

"Along with Reval Keshan," Kain added.

Link spat a curse. "The Kokiri," he worriedly said. "They're all children. They'll be slaughtered."

"The Deku Tree will protect them, Link," Zelda reassured him somewhat hollowly.

Ren blinked, confused, but said, "There's nothing we can do about them now, anyway. If anything this makes our trip more important; the forest is to the southeast, right?"

"Yeah."

"So we need to get a safe place for the villagers. If you're right Reval Keshan is probably amassing an army to attack Kakariko from the plains, the forest, and--if these Gorons you're talking about have fallen--this mountain." He shrugged. "I don't like those odds."

"We have more troops coming in daily, whatever the major cities have to spare and whatever recruits the units I sent out can find," Karsof stated. "Hyrule hasn't been defeated in known history. We won't be taken down by some parasitic bastard, or whatever you want to call it."

"That's what we thought," Alva replied somberly. "Look at us now."

"Enough," Zelda interjected. "We need to keep going."

And so the climb resumed.

--

"I think I found it!"

"The entrance?" Impa asked.

Link nodded.

The group stood tiredly on a large, flat overhang; no path was apparent before them except for a flat wall of stone. "Um," Ren asked, "where? Unless you plan on walking through solid rock, there's nowhere to go."

The green-clad Hylian strode up to the stone cliff face in question, squinting in the waning light; the sun had just dipped below the western horizon, and night approached on silent wings. He squinted closely, following an apparently random hairline crack with his finger, and nodded to himself. "The Gorons' aren't the smartest race around, but they aren't stupid." With a grunt he shoved strenuously against the solid rock; a jagged rectangular section of the cliff face sank into the cliff itself, aided by the power of his gauntlets. With a rumbling _crock-thack_and the groan of stone on stone, the entire section slid downward into a hidden niche, exposing a rough tunnel that stretched into the inscrutable blackness. "See? If anything, when comes to working with stone, they're geniuses."

"A secret tunnel," Alva marveled half-sarcastically. "Apparently cliches _are_ founded in reality."

Link continued, "I'd advise you to get out the torches I told you to bring. It's gonna be really dark in there."

_**Finally!**_ Dark Link exclaimed mentally.

After a minute every torch had been lit. Link finally cautioned them, "Stay close, and stay alert, okay? Gorons aren't the only things that live in here."

_**Yeah, yeah, let's go.**_

Cautiously they entered the gaping tunnel, torches held high. As soon as they all had crossed into its darkness Link shoved on a large block protruding from the wall, eliciting a low, rumbling _click_; the massive door behind them ground upwards, leaving them in utter darkness. His shadow bifurcated, roiling ominously in the flickering torchlight, then raised itself upward, forming a grinning Dark Link. "Goddesses," he grunted, stretching his legs, "took you long enough to get inside."

Ignoring the Knight's shocked looks, Link replied, "Shut up. Let's go."

The tunnel was nearly perfectly rectangular, despite the jagged appearance of its deceptive door; Link approximated it at about twelve feet in width and nine in height. The walls and ceiling were relatively smooth, while the floor was essentially polished flat by several hundred years of Goron passage. As the Hylian hero and his doppelganger took the lead he could not help but notice the slightly acrid odor of recently detonated blasting powder. _Perhaps it has sunken into the walls after all these years of mining._

_**Oh, don't be such an optimistic dipshit. We both know that only three things smell like this: bombs, the bomb flowers they're made from, and Dodongos' crispy fire breath.**_

He scowled. _You have a rare talent for ruining my good moods._

_**I try.**_

_Oh, fuck you._

_**Right back at ya.**_

Link tightened his grip on his torch. Though he was loathe to admit it he knew his shadow was right; there was no reason for bombs to have been detonated in this tunnel for years. That left Dodongos. He grimaced at the thought of the immense, two legged reptiles; he had been mauled nearly to death by their largest--their King, so to speak--in his youth. _Might as well tell them._

"Hey," he said slowly, not looking back, "do you guys smell that?"

"Yeah."

"I think that means we have a chance of running into a Dodongo."

"A what?" one of the Knights asked.

"A Dodongo--big, mean tempered lizard. Thick scales, very strong, not so bright but can breathe fire."

"Breathe fire? Are you fucking joking?"

"I wish I was."

"Great," the Knight grumbled. "We're going up against a fucking mini-dragon."

"Not quite. We may not even see one."

"_May_."

He shrugged and continued on.

The tunnel sloped gently upward, making seemingly random turns each thousand yards; Link's internal compass soon was scrambled beyond hope. _Goddess-damned labyrinth._

_**Pretty much.**_

_Stay out of my head!_

As the smell slowly increased Link transferred his torch from his left to his right hand, leaving his sword hand ready to snatch at the hilt hanging above his left shoulder. The others, picking up on his muted anxiety, mentally readied themselves for conflict, though none but Zelda and Impa had ever encountered Dodongos besides the Links. Soon he detected a faint whiff of sulfur along with the other scents of the underground; either they were close to the dangerously hot crater at Death Mountain's peak--doubtful, given the gentle slope--or a Dodongo had been where they now stood relatively recently. _Shit._ "Stay alert," he cautioned the others.

An hour passed, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Sweat dripped from Link's brow, despite the cool subterranean air. The stench of the Dodongo--"fire lizard," as he believed their names meant in the Goron tongue--was nearly overpowering; he could even taste its burnt, metallic taste when he licked his lips. "How much further?" Alva asked somewhat worriedly.

"I'm not sure, but it can't be too much longer, I think." _More like I hope._

"I hope so," Ren added, " 'cuz this place is giving me the creeps."

"Get over it," Karsof growled tensely.

"Karsof!" Zelda snapped. He shrugged his "apology."

_There_--a small, twisted object lay at the limits of Link's vision, a welcome break from the tunnel's monotony. "Hey," he announced, "I think I--" he swallowed a sharp lump in his throat as he came closer and discerned its identity.

It was a thick bone, one end a rounded lump, the other a splintered mess; a few inches longer than his thigh, it had to be at least four inches in diameter. Beside it lay a small metallic shard, charred and blackened by flame; Link recognized it as a shard of a Goron battle axe. "Oh, shit."

"What--" Ren followed, then his breath hitched in surprise as he saw the pitiful remains. "Oh, shit," he agreed.

Link stopped abruptly and turned to the others. "We're gonna run into a Dodongo," he grimly said.

"How do you know?" a Knight asked.

"If the Gorons had come here since that--" he nodded at the splintered bone "--happened they would have retrieved it and buried it per custom. So, we have a big, probably hungry, pissed off reptile between us and the Gorons."

"Oh, joy."

"If it could take on a Goron of that size--judging by the size of the bone, at least--it's gonna be a big sucker. And that means fire, lots of fire." Indicating the Knights, he asked, "Have you all been trained in using shields in tandem?"

"Of course," Karsof answered for them.

"Good. Do you have any bandages or cloth on you?"

"Again, of course. Standard supplies."

"I need you all to wrap your shield arms with as much padding you can spare. Now, please." As they confusedly began to obey he turned to Zelda. "Can you summon some sort of light when I ask you to? We need to be able to see as well as it does--we don't have its night vision."

"I do," Dark Link interjected smugly. "Guess you guys're fucked."

"Shut up. Look, I've found a relatively simple way to getting rid of these guys. The big problem is the tunnel--we can't get around to its tail, were I can usually chop an artery or something. We have to go with a slightly more dangerous solution.

"Okay, these guys breathe fire by basically spitting a big stream of some sort of liquid--I'm not sure what it is, but it's kinda like venom. Anyway, it explodes on contact with air. Thus, fire breath. _But_, I've found that this liquid stuff is stored in a bunch of sacs--glands, I don't know what they should be called--throughout its body. The problem is, these things are covered in heavy scales; they're well protected."

"Spare us the biology lesson, Link, and get to the point," Karsof demanded.

"Just a sec. Anyway, if we can puncture one of these sac things it'll go off like a bomb--_beneath_ its scales--and blow it to pieces from the inside."

"_If_."

"Yeah, if. Look, you Knights--you're wrapped up? Those shields are gonna get hot as hell soon--you have to form a defensive wall in front of us. It's gonna try and burn us out, but it can't keep it up forever; after a few seconds it'll have to stop, breathe, whatever it does--recharge, I guess. That's when we--everyone but Malon and the Knights; Mal, you're too inexperienced, and we need you guys to stay in formation in case it gets another chance to try and fry us--we hop over you guys and try to hit one of its sac things and blow its head off."

"And we can't just shoot it with arrows or anything safer?" Karsof asked.

"Not really. The scales're too thick, and the weak points too small. It'd be a crapshoot."

He sighed. "Dammit." Gesturing to his men, he said, "If this leads to their deaths I'll blame you and your damn plan."

Link shrugged. "There's no other way, unless you want to backtrack."

"Oh, _fuck _no," Dark Link grinned. "This's gonna be fun!"

Karsof groaned. "Get in position."

The Knights filed to the front of their party, standing shoulder to shoulder in two rows; as the front row crouched and the others stood behind them they formed a wall of steel with their interwoven sheilds. Behind them waited Link and the rest, while Malon stood far back, out of range of danger; she was knowledgeable enough of her own abilities to know she had no place in this fight.

"Is everyone ready?"

"Not really," one of the Knights grunted worriedly, "but fuck it--lets do this before I lose my nerve."

Link nodded. "As soon as Sheik lights up this place it's gonna come at us fast, hard, and pissed." At Dark Link's juvenile snickering he growled, "Get over it. Again, everyone ready?"

"Yeah."

Link and the others dropped their torches and drew their weapons; both Links chose their Biggoron's Sword, as its heft would ease cutting through the creature's thick scales. He nodded to Zelda.

With a cry she raised her arms above her head, the insignia on the back of her palm glowing with magic; the air seemed to be immediately charged with electricity--Link felt his hair stand on end--then the entire tunnel was illuminated with dim light as she summoned a large orb of pure light. He grimaced; any brighter would blind them after the tunnel's darkness and kill his shadow. Still, he felt a brief stab of pain grind through his eyes as they hastily adjusted.

An immense, screeching roar echoed through the tunnels, shaking the very stone. _Oh, shit . . . Here it comes._ He was not afraid of his own death; he had come to terms with his mortality long ago. His greatest fear was of failing the people he knew who depended upon him.

_**Enough damn reflection, Mr. Big Fucking Hero. We've got shit to kill.**_

_Thud._ _Thud._ The ground shook with each immense footfall. _It's fucking giant . . ._

_Thud. Thud._ It was getting closer, an angry swelling of the darkness at the far edges of the light's reach.

_Thud. Thud. _Finally it entered the orb's illuminating perimeter.

It truly was giant for its kind; it had to be at least seventy years old to have grown to such an extreme, though it was thankfully no King Dodongo. Its spine and shoulders ground roughly against the ceiling, joining with the sound of its heavy, muscled body sliding across the ground to create a continuous crackling squeal of breaking stone. Its eyes glowed blood red in the orb's reflected light, standing out in a massive, widely triangular skull at least four feet wide and crested with a spattering of spikes. The Dodongo's thick scales gleamed a dull olive green, muted with rock dust. "Oh, damn," he heard Ren mutter. He swallowed; its immense shoulders were at least six or seven feet wide. _Maybe eight. Shit._ Bands of powerful muscle rippled beneath its scales as it dragged itself forward on its two limbs, both of which terminated in a massive set of gore-stained claws.

The Dodongo opened its gaping maw, revealing dozens of jagged, deadly fangs, and roared again; the ground trembled. A gust of fetid air roiled over them, reeking of rotting meat. Link swallowed again; this would have been a deadly but fallible foe in the open, but in such an enclosed battleground--its lair, quite literally--he could not utilize his superior mobility to bring it down. Shoving aside his fear, he bellowed, "_Get ready!_"

_Thud. Thud._ The beast was fifty yards away.

_Thud. Thud._ It moved with surprising speed--forty yards.

_Thud. Thud. _Thirty.

_Thud. Thud._ Twenty. Link saw scraps of meat from its last kill lodged in its claws and in its teeth--

_Thud. Thud._ Ten. Its chest expanded mightily as it sucked in air; his hair whipping in the new gale, he screamed, "_Get down!_" and hurled himself to the ground.

His vision exploded with white and vibrant orange as a scintillating wave of fire leaped from the Dodongo's wide jaws and swept over the Knight's feeble shields. His nostrils filled with the smell of sulphur, flame, hot metal, and scorched flesh. _Hot hot hot pain ow I'm burning we're burning it won't stop it never stops we lost I lost--_

He could not move; he could not think; he could not feel anything but the immense heat, heat he had not felt since his encounter with the dragon Volvalgia; he could do nothing but force his eyes shut and feel his skin singe and smolder.

Thirty seconds--hours, he would have sworn--passed.

The flame stopped.

Pain turned to rage. Roaring a raw-throated battle cry Link leaped to his feet, hearing the others do the same, and vaulted over the collapsed ranks of Knights, who frantically tried to rid themselves of their red-hot shields. Some detached corner of his mind noted that their tactic would not hold again; they could not grip their shields. _Now or never._

He charged forward, dimly aware of the others following, and raised his immense two-handed sword. The Dodongo's eyes seemed to widen in surprise; it was not used to such tough prey--

He brought Biggoron's Sword's broad, razor-sharp edge down vertically upon the creature's skull in a powerful overhead stroke. With the power of the Golden Gauntlets behind it the blade sheared through the layers of tough, overlapping scales and embedded itself in the Dodongo's thick skull. Green-grey blood squirted along the gash as the monster recoiled, roaring its pain and rage to the world; Link tugged back on the hilt and jerked the sword free of the creature's flesh with a wet _squelch_. He bellowed victoriously and danced backward, judging his next strike.

Dark Link flashed past him midblow and hacked diagonally into the juncture between neck and shoulder, similarly sinking his ebony blade into its flesh. Blood squirted--but not enough. He laughed and twisted and ripped his sword free, widening the wound; the Dodongo shoved itself five paces backwards in retreat.

Link began to follow, then sprang backward with a cry as the immense reptile lunged forward, jaws wide. Its teeth slammed together inches from his chest as he backpedaled frantically.

Ren yelled, trying to distract it from Link's vulnerability, and rushed at its right shoulder--his left. Instead of gnashing teeth, however, one immense arm--leg? he did not know--lashed out, trying to rip open his chest. His instincts saved his life; Ren allowed himself to fall, sliding on his side feet first towards the Dodongo. The muscled limb swiped horizontally two feet above him, rending nothing but air even as he slashed awkwardly while skidding. Though Ren and his kind were stronger than most, his awkward positioning cost him the full power behind the sword blow--his blade bounced off of the armor of thick scales amidst a spattering of sparks.

He dug his heels into the stone floor and kicked backward, halting his slide, and deftly rolled to the side, barely avoiding the claw that came smashing down onto the space he had just occupied. Splinters of rock stung his face as he scrambled for safety. Alva dashed forward and grasped his hand, tugging him to his feet and away from the deadly reptile. "Where are the sacs?" she cried.

"I'm not sure! I think behind its jaws, in its throat--that'd make--" Link dove backward, away from another bite, and rolled to his feet, swinging his sword in retaliation; its tip skittered along its nose-- "--the most sense!"

"Keep it off balance--it will try and spit fire again if we let it," Kain yelled. He sprinted forward, a black blur in his speed, with Impa at his side; the two ran directly for the beast's skull. As its neck extended, jaws snapping open, the two sprang in opposite directions; as its teeth clicked together Kain slashed at the left side of its throat, Impa the right, before springing away. Both had aimed their blows to angle towards the Dodongo's head from the body, running against the "grain" of its scales. Their blades sliced easily through the exposed thinner scales, drawing blood but not striking an artery or sac.

The creature howled; it swung its thick skull towards Kain, intending to crush him against its shoulder, even as its opposite limb swiped at Impa, who easily rolled beneath it and leapt to safety.

Kain, however, was in a more severe predicament. The Dodongo's massive skull blocked his escape, leaving him with nowhere to go but up. As the massive reptile only had two limbs, in slashing at Impa it had partially rolled onto that side, momentarily off balance; a small gap appeared between its muscled top and the ceiling. He leaped upward, rolling over the top of its neck--scraping the stone above him--and landed in a half-crouch on the other side of the creature's neck even as the harsh _clack_ of its head slamming into its shoulder echoed through the tunnel.

Enraged by its failure to kill even one of its attackers, the Dodongo swept its extended arm inward, again trying to crush Kain against its body. He, however, did not budge; instead, he braced his back against its muscled chest and held his blade horizontally straight in front of him, gripping it with both hands at chest height.

Unable to see Kain's trap, the creature swung its arm towards him--and spitted it neatly through the forearm on his sword. Its involuntary flinch stopped its arm from crushing him; instead it thrashed before him, spurting blood. With a scowl on his face he quickly darted forward, grabbed the sword hilt, and twisted viciously. Tendons and ligaments snapped with audible _whaps_; the creature's claw and wrist flailed, then went limp. Jerking his sword free, he sprinted out of range, listening to its cry of agony with bloody satisfaction.

Dark Link lunged past him, yelling, "Now you have _balls_, my man!" and twirled his shadowy Biggoron's sword in anticipation of a strike. Ren, Alva, Karsof and the rest followed close behind; they knew that the Dodongo was crippled. The shadow feinted for another diagonal slice at the creature's throat, then spun in the opposite direction and swung horizontally, using his momentum to turn himself into a bladed whirling dervish; his heavy sword flashed towards the creature's throat. It instinctively jerked its head to the side, sheilding its neck with its skull; the ebony blade sank into the creature's large jaw muscle. As it opened its maw to roar in pain it accidentally widened the gash; Dark Link shoved his blade deeper into its mouth, then ripped it free in a spray of blood and arrogantly flipped backwards over the retaliatory arm swing, dancing away with his omnipresent grin.

Kain bellowed, "Behind the jaw! I saw a bulge behind the jaw!"

Nodding to each other, Karsof darted to the right while Ren and Alva took on the other side. Ren yelled, "Go for the throat!" and charged the Dodongo's good arm. Taking the bait, it pistoned straight out from the shoulder, meaning to impale him on its claws. Again he threw himself to the ground and tried to slide beneath the blow; however, the creature had learned from its mistakes. Its claws angled downward to eviscerate him as he passed; he cried out his defiance and shoved his sword upward, bracing his palm on the flat of the blade.

Claw and steel connected; Ren almost blocked the blow.

Almost.

One wickedly curved talon flicked downward and scored him deeply from just beside his left nipple to his shoulder, slicing cleanly through flesh and muscle and grating across his ribs. Blood spurted. Howling in pain, he slid unchecked into the beast's chest, leaving a trail of crimson.

Alva turned to him, eyes wide. Gritting his teeth, he bellowed, "Kill it!"

She turned back, eyes blazing at the creature that dare hurt him. A wide bulge lurked in the shadow of the Dodongo's immense jaw muscle. Yelling her anger and fear for Ren, she stabbed the wide bulge just as Karsof did the same on the opposite side. Pulling her blade free, she blinked in surprise.

Her sword was on fire.

Alva's eyes widened. _That means . . ._ She turned to the smoldering puncture that seemed to weep flames. _Oh, __**shit!**_

She sprinted to Ren and grabbed him beneath the armpits, hoisting his arm over her neck, and began to run. Dazed, he helped as much as he could, shirt stained red-black.

A roar filled the tunnel. A wave of heat slammed into the couple's back, lifting them off their feet.

Darkness.

--

Link blinked and opened his eyes, feeling his skull throb. Groaning, he forced himself to sit up, feeling dizzy.

Twenty yards away lay the Dodongo's corpse, sans head and shoulders. The tunnel was spattered with blood and chunks of flesh; the reek made him gag. Forcing his nausia aside, he grinned. _We won_.

"Ah, mother_fucker!_"

Link shook his head and looked over to see Alva crouched beside the motionless Ren. Alarmed at the growing pool of blood, he scrambled over to her side. "How can I help?"

She knelt at the motionless Rass's side, hands holding together a deep gash across his chest and shoulder. "Get bandages, a needle, and thread."

Head still spinning, Link cried, "Sheik!"

Zelda appeared next to him, the requested bundle in her arms. "I heard. Here, let me."

"No," she snapped, "I've done this before." Swiftly threading the needle, she cleaned the wound and quickly began to sew it shut with evident skill. Ren groaned, unconscious. "Ugh," she ranted, "you _dumbass_." Link and Zelda blinked, surprised to hear such anger directed at her husband. "You _always_ have to do this shit, huh? 'Ooh, look, I'm gonna save the day--whoops, that's gonna hurt in the morning.' " She rolled her bloodshot eyes; Link saw the tears marching down her cheeks. "_Next _time, buddy, you're gonna stay nice 'n' safe in the back, huh?" She sniffed noisily. "Goddamn masochist. Always gotta get hurt, huh? Huh? And what happens when I'm not here, huh?" She busily wiped at her face, replacing tears with blood. "Oh, if you get killed, boyo, what'll I do, huh? I'll throw a damn party. No more stitching!" She hiccuped. "Then I'd jump off a damn cliff, and then where'd we be, huh? Dead martyr boy and suicidal widow. Good fucking grief!"

"Are . . . Are you okay?" Link tentatively asked.

"What? No, I am most definitely _not_ okay, thank you very much? You want to know why, huh?" She pawed angrily at the tears streaming down her face. "My friends are dead, my family is dead, my fucking _world_ is dead, and we're the last people _period _of our kind 'cuz I'm not even sure that damn Kain is Rass anymore! And now I'm fucking bawling like a goddamn damsel in distress!" She growled, sniffed, and turned back to her husband, still mumbling darkly.

Link leaned back, surprised. He had known of their pain . . . but _this_ was unexpected and totally spontaneous. He jumped as he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Kain whispered in his ear, "Do not take her anger to heart. She is still grieving for her kin and world. She would rather be angry than scared, so she hides behind her anger. It saves her much pain, but can lead to such situations as this . . . . It is not healthy, but these are not healthy times."

He nodded mutely. They had been through hell--he would not judge.

Standing, he said, "Perhaps we should camp here tonight."

Kain frowned and guided him away by the elbow. Once they were a satisfactory distance away, he quietly intoned, "That would not be the best idea."

Link frowned. "He's wounded."

"Yes, I know. There is medicine ahead, is there not? More of the red potion that you fed to your Queen?" He nodded. "I believe it is of the utmost importance that we reach your allies tonight."

"Why? I know we have to hurry but--"

"We have less time than I had hoped."

"How? Why?"

"I would rather not reveal the extent of my reconnaissance, but I have received word that there are other portals."

"What? Where--how?"

"Another one made it through the portal with us. I believe that you have invested enough trust in us for us to do the same for you."

"Another survivor? Goddesses, Kain, why wouldn't you--"

"She has been our only hold over your forces given the chance that we were betrayed. We had to have our own secret weapon, so to speak, somewhat like what I believe I sense in you and your Queen."

Link's eyes widened. _How could he--_

"Link, I would like you to meet Alexis." The large man stepped back and reached within the folds of his robe, withdrawing the large purple gem Link had noticed gracing his horse. "Alexis. It is time we lay open our hands."

The gem flashed with energy; Link gasped in surprise and stepped back, cautious--he had had bad experiences with enchanted crystals. From within its shimmering depths emerged a glowing violet light; condensing into a pulsating orb, it drifted to Kain's right and flashed, then ruptured, letting loose a small sea of luminescent violet energy. It milled about in the air for a short moment, then coalesced into the form of a ethereally beautiful woman. She was neither Rass nor human, as was apparent; her skin glowed an extremely pale lavender, while a loose, flowing white robe covered her inhumanly perfect body; looped over both shoulders, it elegantly waved in a wind Link could not feel, allowing her arms and upper back to remain bare. Her sophisticatedly braided hair spilled in intricate strands down her back, glowing a deep violet. She gazed at him humbly, her pink-violet irises glowing gently with unearthly power, and curtsied. "I apologize for our deception. I am Alexis, Kain's second in command."

Link blinked, speechless. Around them the Knights were slowly coming to, shaking their heads and groaning, only to paw at their eyes at Alexis's ethereal beauty. Kain explained, "She is, as she said, my second. It is she who converted our tongue into yours; how, I am not sure."

"Ah, I'm pleased to meet you," Link finally replied. "Um, 'our tongue?' "

"I heard you talk and let that flow into the minds of the others." Her voice was soft and tinkling; she reminded him of the mesmerizing Great Fairies he had encountered in his travels. "I cannot explain any further than that; you could not understand."

"Wait," he interrupted. "You said reconnaissance--she could have seen the ambushes ahead of time? She could have saved many lives!" His tone grew tense. "You withheld her abilities?"

"I cannot venture far, as the crystal houses me; however, I can detect the energies of others, to an extent. Had I known of any ambushes I would have alerted my master and he would have acted accordingly. I did not know of the attacks until you did."

Link nodded, somewhat placated. Kain ventured, "You may relax, Alexis. There is no need for formalities, I believe; I know you tire of them."

She nodded, hair bobbing. "Thank you. Link, you are very interesting, but I'm going to go speak with your Queen; we have quite a bit to discuss."

He nodded again, still stymied; she turned and gracefully padded to Zelda, who had observed the entire exchange with curious eyes. "So . . . Yeah, there's another, but why do we have to hurry so much? We could risk Ren's health."

Kain nodded. "She can keep him healthy enough until we get the Gorons and their medicine--I understand they are not far." Link nodded. "Our problem is that she recieved a sharp spike of energy from several different places a short time ago--in this mountain, on the plains, in the south, and in the west."

"Portals?"

"I hope not, but almost certainly so."

"Shit."

"Exactly. We do not have time to loose. Besides, I cannot help but harbor some hope for some other Rass; if other portals did appear others could have made it through."

"But she hasn't taught them how to speak Hylian yet."

"Yes, and she will not be able to until she meets them. I believe one, in particular, is on--in--this mountain."

"Really?"

The small lizard Link had captured earlier scampered out of the shadows, up Kain's clothing, and perched itself on his shoulder. "These are quite intelligent creatures, Scarog. Some of my elite Blackguard have been known to pair up with one, nursing it from birth; they help each other. In some cases, limited telepathy ensues; these are their companions and helpers."

"So if this one made it through . . ."

"There is a good chance the other did as well."

"Wait--'Blackguard?' "

"My elite. Those who have been freed from a life of certain hell and given my blessing, protection, and training for their loyalty. If any can survive in foreign lands such as these it would be they. Besides, I believe I recognize this particular Scarog, though I cannot place his name. If I am correct we are in luck."

"So we should go to the Gorons and find him."

"Yes."

Link shrugged. "As long as she can keep Ren awake and okay, I guess we can move on."

"Very wise."

--

"So she's, like, what, a fairy?"

"I guess," Link replied.

"Cool," Malon said. "I guess it helps to have someone like that on our side. It doesn't hurt that it gives your little shadow someone else to hit on."

He shrugged and blushed. "I _am_ sorry bout him, you know. It--"

"Wasn't your choice and isn't your fault. Relax. Apparently we all have a little one of him tucked up in our heads."

Link raised his torch somewhat, looking over to where his doppelganger determinedly followed Alexis, spewing mindless blather that ultimately was angled to get her out of her robe and in his arms. "Best that they stay there."

"Probably."

They walked along in silence, listening to their entourage's footsteps echo in the tunnel. "You've been through more than you say, haven't you?"

"Hm?"

"Come on, you don't get that massive treasure trove of gear just by wandering around for a few years. And Zelda told me about all your scars and stuff."

"Really?" His ears perked up. "What else'd she say?"

The farmgirl laughed. "Many, many, many dirty secrets."

"That's not cool, Mal."

"Eh," she grinned, "I'm not gonna tell ya. Give up. Half of 'em weren't real anyway."

"Again, not cool, Mal."

"Shush, you're changing the subject. You're not, ah, normal. I know that much."

He glanced at her. "Are you saying I'm different or I'm gay?"

Malon laughed, "Different. I just don't know why."

"Why what?"

"Don't play stupid, fairy boy."

"Are you calling me gay again?"

"_No_, and you aren't changing the subject, intriguing as it is."

He rolled his eyes. "So, what, I'm a little different. I don't see much there."

She elbowed him gently in the side. "You're playing dumb. You're a horrible liar, you know."

_Only when I have to_. "So what?"

"So . . . why are you so different? And quiet? And . . . I don't know, serious?"

"Hm? Serious?"

She twirled her torch absentmindedly from hand to hand. "I've seen you when you think you're alone sometimes. You just stare off into the distance, looking like you're old and tired yet young . . . I don't know how to explain it." Her voice softened. "I just don't think anyone should have to deal with such pain--you can't deny it, Link, I've seen it--alone."

Link stared straight ahead, his face inscrutable. "I don't."

"A-Ah, I see." Her breath hitched momentarily. "That's . . . That's good."

He twitched, internally smacking himself. _Goddesses, grow a heart, asshole!_ "Are you okay?"

She smiled thinly. "I'm fine, Link." A strained silence descended between them, invisibly yet undeniably dividing them. "I think I want to be alone for a while, Link," Malon eventually asked.

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure. I'll go--" Before he could finish she veered away, walking by herself along the tunnel wall, face unreadable. _Dammit, Link!_ He found himself enraged at himself for no reason he could articulate. _Just . . . Dammit, Link!_

His shadow was thankfully silent.

--

"I think this is it."

Link caught up to Impa, who stood before a blank stone wall. "Yeah," he confirmed. Just as suddenly as it had begun the tunnel had ended. "Here," he said, giving her his torch, "hold this for a sec."

With a grunt he again shoved forward; a eight foot square panel of stone slid forward with a rumble, then sank downwards into another hidden niche. Taking back his torch with a murmured "thanks," he stepped through; this tunnel was narrower--eight feet by eight, like the "door"--but a muted light shone from a fair distance away. "I think we're here," he announced, gesturing for the others to follow. As soon as they had all passed through the doorway he pulled on a large lever embedded into the wall at his left; the door rumbled back up into position.

"Spiffy," Ren commented dryly.

"Very. Come on, we need to get you medicine and to talk to their Big Brother."

"Their what?"

Grinning somewhat sheepishly, Link explained, "They call their leader their Big Brother, like it's a position."

He shrugged tiredly. "Whatever. If they've got food and a bed I don't care what they do."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Come on, let's go."

As they strode out of the tunnel Alva exclaimed, "Good God."'

They found themselves at the base of an immense tiered city shaped much like a basin. Each level grew wider as it went up; the bottom level where they stood was a perfect circle three hundred feet in diameter, while the second was three hundred and fifty, and so on; however, there only was one ceiling several hundred--thousand?--feet above them. Each level was just another ring above and around the one below, and so on; scattered ropes, banners, and rope bridges snaked across the immense gap, but no serious floor spanned the expanse. "How many floors?" Alva asked breathlessly.

"Twenty, at least," Link responded.

The bustle of city life, even at such an hour--it had to at least be midnight--cascaded around their ears. Large brown shapes--Gorons--moved too and fro among the various floors, often speedily in tight balls. Equally large stone doorways lined almost every vertical surface, hinting at the honeycomb of rooms and tunnels that riddled the city and mountain. Link knew that even more tunnels and such extended far beneath them, perhaps spanning much of northeastern Hyrule. Hundreds of torches burned smokelessly in their braziers, suffusing the city in a flickering, warm light that made the harsh stone seem soft and comfortable. Evidence--besides the city structure itself--of the Gorons' mastery over stone working lay everywhere, from the elaborate carvings of Gorons at play on some walls to the frequent sculptures; here a Goron hero, proudly brandishing a war hammer, there a stylized flame, showing their kinship with the volcano's fiery origins. The most spectacular, however, was a massive stone statue that stood proudly at the center of the bottom floor. Two tiers high--at least fifty feet, Link estimated--and carved in the likeliness of three Gorons standing back to back, raised arms holding a large cup as though in supplication to the Goddesses, it dominated the lowest floor.

"What exactly _are _these Gorons?" Ren asked.

"You'll see," Link replied. "Come on, we're lucky--Darunia, their leader, is on this floor. Let's go." Slowly, tiredly they followed Link around the massive statue--each carved Goron had a different face, Ren noted--and to another stone door, this one eight feet tall and six wide. Motioning for them to stand back, Link pulled on a large lever next to the door; a gong echoed inside as the door ground downward into its slot. Waving them on, he was sure to close the door behind him with another lever; simple Goron etiquette.

He lead them down a torchlit corridor a good twenty yards in length, then motioned for them to wait just behind the doorway to what seemed to be the Goron's version of a throne room. Pulling on the lever, he waited for the door to grind downward and stepped into the room.

"Darunia?"

"Yes? Come in," a deep, gravely voice rumbled. "Let me see how I can help you."

Link walked forward into the warmly lit room, smelling the sweet incense the Big Brother seemed to love. He stood in a large room, elaborately furnished in Goron taste with stone benches, chairs, and tables, all carved to perfection as an art piece as much as a functioning furnishing. Coils of deep red and silver minerals ran through many, elevating their status as a work of art. At the far wall stood a larger-than-life statue of a muscled Goron holding a spear and grinning victoriously; engravings covered the walls depicting various stages of the Gorons' history.

In front of one such engraving stood Darunia, head of the Hylian Gorons. He was a prime specimen of the ideal Goron, though he was getting on in age, even among their long-lived people. He stood at an even seven feet in height, neither unduly tall nor short for his species; his thick, dark brown hide could safely shield him from all but the most powerful of weapons, while his back was covered in the tough, rocky coating typical of his people; Link knew of no word for that body part in his language. "Darunia."

The large creature turned, revealing fierce, chiseled features and a wild beard that seemed to be formed of silver wires. Although he had a potbelly, as did most all of his race, his arms and chest were extremely muscular; he could rip a horse in two, if he was so incline. As if to make up for this his legs were short and stubby, seemingly unsuitable to support his immense bulk.

As soon as his dark purple eyes beheld Link, however, his fierce expression split into one of joy. "Ah, Link!" he boomed, his wide mouth splitting his oval head in half with a toothy grin, "Such a good surprise! I did not know you had returned from Termina!"

"I just got--"

Darunia scuttled forward on his stubby legs and immersed Link in a bone-crushing hug, actually lifting him off of the ground. "It's so good to see you again, my Sworn Brother!"

The hylian wheezed, feeling his back pop in three separate places. "Oh, but I forget, Link, how fragile you are despite your fearsome status as a warrior!" The Goron released him, letting him drop to the ground; Link nearly fell over, mentally groaning at the bruises he could already feel ripening.

"Good to see you too, Darunia," he responded somewhat weekly. "I just got back, yeah."

"Oh, it's good of you to visit, Brother," the massive creature boomed. "I was getting worried you weren't coming back, ha!"

Link grinned wearily, "You know I can't leave you guys."

"Ah, but soon you will wind a mate and settle--ah, what do you call it; a wife--yes, soon you will find a wife and settle down somewhere, at least as much as you ever can settle, eh?" he grinned.

"I think it's kinda early for--"

"Bah, you say that now, but soon, yes, soon you'll find one. I can feel it, you know."

He smiled sheepishly, "Yeah, I'm sure you're right, Darunia, but I'm afraid I didn't come here just to see you."

Darunia's grin slipped. "Ah," he said, posture sagging somewhat. "You Hylians have been plagued as well, then?"

Link frowned, trying to deal with his friend's accent; though the Goron had learned Hylian long ago he still distorted some words and sometimes mixed up his sentences. "I guess you could say so. Have you been attacked?"

"We have, yes. I am afraid we have lost several brave Gorons to this new, strange nemesis."

_Kain was right. There are more portals._ "How much do you know about this?"

"Not very much. It seems . . . alien."

Link shrugged. "I think that's a better description than you may think. I did not come alone, though; with me are Impa, Zelda, General Karsof, and several foreigners who have survived this creature's invasion."

"You aren't alone? Please, invite them in, Brother!"

Hearing the invitation, the others filed in, most surprised by the elaborate craftsmanship that surrounded them. Link heard the clink and rattle of the Knights' armor outside; thankfully they had the sense not to intrude.

"Darunia," Zelda began, "I believe we have much to discuss."

--

Link groaned and rolled over, vainly seeking comfort on the tough woven mat that the Gorons had provided him. He had not slept well, if at all; for the last six hours he had tossed and turned on this pitiful excuse for a bed, drifting in and out of a dazed half-doze but never quite shutting his eyes. _Damn Goron skins,_ he thought; they slept on bare rock and expressed no discomfort, leading to his current insomnia. _Oh, bullshit. You're worried. You've slept in worse places than this._

He shrugged to himself and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Shivering in the cool air, he hurriedly dressed himself and tugged the lever beside his door, seeking to explore the city in his sleeplessness. As the door ground downward he was surprised to find a gruff Goron standing guard beside his door. " 'Scuse me, were assigned to guard me or something?"

The burly creature nodded solemnly. "Yes, in light of the murder."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Murder?"

"A Goron was found dead on the third tier less than two hours ago."

Link nodded. "And since we just arrived . . ."

"Your group's arrival was no secret. Many demanded you be put under lock and key."

_Shit. Either this is a freakish coincidence or we have enemies among the Gorons, either of their own cause or not._ "Am I allowed to visit the others?"

He nodded. "As long as I accompany you."

The Hylian stepped out, pulling the lever to shut the door behind him, and walked a short distance alongside his burly guard. They had been given individual rooms on the second tier, less than twenty feet from each other; Link soon rapped on Kain's thick stone door, slightly anxious. "With all due respect, they'll never hear that," his guard told him. _Whatever._ He jerked on the lever and entered.

Surprisingly, all of their party--sans Knights--was grouped around a narrow stone table, apparently deep in discussion. Link's guard remained outside and shut the door, having no need to be inside with them; there was no exit besides the one he stood over.

Zelda looked up and nodded tiredly at him. "Hey, Link," she greeted. "I would have woken you but I think you've earned your rest."

He shrugged and took the empty seat at her right. "I'm never too tired to help."

She rolled her eyes, returned to their Sheikah red. "You aren't immortal, you know. Even you need a break every once in a while."

"So you say."

"May we resume?" Karsof interrupted, face strained. "This is not the time for pleasantries and chit-chat."

"Of course, General," Zelda responded somewhat curtly, regaining her regal composure. "Anyway, as I was saying before Link arrived, I believe we have a threat from Reval Keshan within the city but not within the Gorons themselves."

"How'd you determine that?" Ren asked, shoulder mended after a full bottle of red potion. "For all we know it could be in their leader, Darunia."

Link shook his head. "I know him. He's alive and in charge of himself and the rest; I would know otherwise, believe me."

"We have been deceived like this before."

Again he shook his head. "You don't understand--we are connected by more than just acquaintance, as Impa and Zelda know."

Ren opened his mouth to voice a question but was cut off by Karsof, who belligerently growled, "I will say it again: these Sages--this magic--is bullshit. If they had any power they'd've used it in the Great War."

Zelda replied patiently, "We've been over this, Karsof. They had not been awakened in this generation at that time."

"And I've said it again and again: I refuse to allow you to stake your battle strategy on religious--"

"General," Impa interjected. "Are you aware that I am the Sage of Shadow?"

He grunted, "Yeah. Goody, you're a priestess."

Her blood red eyes remained level. "We Sages are much more than just 'holy figures,' or whatever you may call us." She held up her hand, palm upward. A small oscillating orb of blackness crackled into being just above her gloved fingers and hovered ominously, radiating small purple sparks. "I control the element of shadow as much as my mortal body allows. Darunia does the same with fire. You may take this as fact--the Sages are not to be trifled with and set aside as zealots."

Karsof paled somewhat at the display of magic but remained firm. "Sheikah have been known to use minor displays of magic before, illusions to fool--"

The ball of shadow shot forward and smashed into Karsof's breastplate with a small explosion, sending him tumbling backwards out of his chair, cursing mightily. Rolling once, he smacked into the wall with a heavy _clang_of armor. Karsof roared and scrambled to his feet, snatching at his sword.

"Draw that sword and I will kill you." The man froze, eyes wide as he realized the Sheikah meant what she said. "I have much experience commanding our forces; you are only useful because the men look up to you, for reasons I cannot discern."

"Zelda--"

The Queen sharply asked, "How many times will you have to be put in your place before you accept your orders?" The man wilted. "You are here because your performance many years ago speaks for you. Every day, it seems, I come to doubt my choice to bring you along. Sit down, General, and be thankful I do not let Impa carry out her threat." Her eyes were daggers of ice. "She would not need her magic to slit your throat."

"She is not of any higher rank--"

"She is a _Sage, _Karsof. They do not like to advertise the fact, so thus far they have remained peacefully anonymous. However, given recent circumstances I believe that is no longer the best decision. As such I hereby award her and her fellow Sages second only to me." The General seemed to deflate. "Actually, allow me to revise that; Link is second only to me. The Sages follow."

Link tensed in surprise.

"_Link?_" Karsof sputtered. "The insolent pup's--"

"Another word and I will strip you of your rank for slandering your superiors."

His jaw bulged; the skin of his face slowly darkened to a mottled red of outrage. For a moment Link believed he would snap and pull out his sword; then he slowly sank into his chair, muscles tense. A deathly silence descended over the group, the tension palpable.

Ren finally broke the quiet. "Um, sorry to interrupt the brooding, but I have no clue what these 'Sages' are, and they sound important, so . . . yeah."

Zelda replied, "There are six Sages, people who hold immense power over their particular element and see that the Hylian Peace remains in balance."

"And Impa is the Sage of Shadow." At her nod he shrugged and amicably continued, "Cool. That helps."

"But we are slipping off of the problem at hand. Impa and I would know if Darunia had been taken; we are linked, though I would prefer not to extrapolate the nature of our connection. Have you all been informed of how the Goron was killed?" Link shook his head. "He had several deep punctures, one on each side of the throat, several more between the ribs, one beneath the armpit, and one through the eye. All were narrow enough to be made by a dagger or thin sword, though the weapon would have had to be extraordinarily sharp to penetrate his hide." Turning to the Rass, she continued, "This is not the way Gorons fight; they wield nothing smaller than hammers and greatswords, aside from their fists."

"Yeah, that pretty much rules out another Goron, possessed or not. . . . So, what, it's here but not as a Goron? That doesn't seem possible--it'd stand out too much." His expression darkened. "Unless--"

"Hey, hey, now, I didn't do it," his shadow cut in. "Relax. I'm homicidal but not stupid."

"And we're just supposed to take you at your word?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. I just walked around and stuff, didn't really sleep."

"Right," he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Every waking moment you've been raving about having sex and wanting to kill stuff, and now we get here--_pow--_someone dies. Coincidence, of course."

"Pretty much."

"Look," Impa cut in, "there is no way we can really find out who killed the Goron. Until then I suggest we resume our deliberations with Darunia; we have much to discuss and little time to spare."

"This is probably end up being a major pain in the ass, I think, as far as negotiating goes, but that's all we can really do, huh?" Ren asked.

"In essence. Darunia will be here momentarily; I just asked him to come."

"When?"

"Just now."

"Um, how?"

"As I said, the Sages are connected."

"Wait, telepathy?" She nodded. "Why'd we bother coming here then? Couldn't you just have talked to him that way?"

She shook her head. "It is not that simple. All but the shortest messages require a direct linking of minds; usually it is safe enough, but our energies as Sages would also be united. I'd run the substantial risk of exploding in flames, and he could be possessed by shadows. Seeing as we can't afford to loose a Sage over a day or two of travel, we came here."

He shrugged and rubbed his healed shoulder; the muscle was faintly stiff and sore. "I guess you know what you're doing, huh? I'm not gonna second-guess you."

The door ground open, admitting Darunia's bulky, muscled frame; exchanging the typical greetings, he pulled a low stone stool from the corner and sat with a heavy _thud_.

"So," he rumbled, "I know that we did not progress far in our talks last night--understandably, of course; few can climb our mountain as quickly as you did--but I took the liberty of meeting with our elders and discussing the will of the people." He paused to clear his throat, emitting a sound much like gravel being scraped across a brick. "I can guarantee you safe harbor in the case of a full-scale attack, and we shall do our best to accommodate your villagers and such should you feel the need to evacuate them."

"You are most generous--"

"Zelda," the Goron interrupted pleadingly, "I've known you since you were born. Your father is--was, excuse me--my Sworn Brother. Please, there is no need for formalities."

She smiled warmly. "Thanks. We would like to begin as soon as possible; we believe an attack is imminent."

Darunia frowned and growled, "An attack on Hylian soil is an attack on our city itself, as far as I am concerned. I will rally what forces I can and lead them down the mountain to support you; it may take a day or so, but we will help however we can."

"That will save many lives. You have our thanks."

Kain interjected, "For your sake, however, leave at least a strong few to guard the city. There may be more of Reval Keshan on the mountain and possibly in the city itself."

"The murder?"

"That and other things point to infiltration, yes."

He nodded. "I will ensure we remain well protected. Any attackers will be crushed."

"That's--" Kain was interrupted by a brief pounding on the rock door. It soon rumbled open, admitting a slightly bewildered Goron.

"Yes?" Darunia asked.

"I think I saw someone yesterday who could've killed that Goron."

"Really? Please, explain."

"It wasn't another Goron, nor one of these travellers, but it was an oddly colored Hylian in black robes, wearing a sword."

"Oddly colored?"

"It--he had red eyes. Everything else was covered in black clothing."

"Did he speak?" Kain asked.

"He did, but not in a language I know."

Darunia resumed, "Where was this?"

"On the northeastern slopes, just above the cliffs. He left before I could get another look at him."

"Thank you. Is that all? Very well, you may leave. Your help is much appreciated."

As the door ratcheted shut Kain victoriously grinned, "One of my Blackguard has made it through."

"How are you sure he's yours?"

"If it was the creature it would have spoken Hylian fluently. But he did not." He explained how Alexis had allowed their seamless transition to the Hylian tongue.

"Ah, very wise."

"But to continue the topic at hand--Zelda, is there any way to send another request for support to your other allies?"

"I've already sent two each. Still, even with the Sages on our side in each region we will need to visit them personally to negotiate full support; we would have to convince them in person, due to the nature of our governments. Not all are as generous as Darunia."

He frowned. "That will make things quite difficult. It may even turn this into a race, of sorts; whichever side gains the most forces the fastest will be victorious."

"How fast can it grow?"

"How many live in the plains?"

"Many."

"It will grow quickly, then. I'm sure we will be outnumbered if--when--we are attacked; it will try and cripple any resistance before it can grow, as it did with your castle.

"I would suggest your return, then," Darunia announced. "You have my and my race's full support; our forces should arrive within the next day or two. If you would like, I would prefer to send twenty of our reserve force with you, just in case you are somehow ambushed on the way down. They would also be able to access the fastest way down the mountain--a tunnel only Gorons can open. I believe it ends just outside your gates."

"That would be excellent," Zelda replied. "Again, thank you. Without your help I would not have any hopes for our survival."

"Don't thank me yet. Thank me after we kill this thing."


	6. VI: The Battle of Kakariko

**Here she goes . . . **

--

Reval Keshan

Chapter 6

"This's gonna be a long, long night . . ."

The Battle of Kakariko

--

"Urgh, do we have to leave _again?_ I don't wanna be stuck staring at your ass for another day."

Ignoring the Goron's confused faces, Link replied, "You know why, and we're going underground--you're fine 'til we get outside, and it'll probably be dark by then, anyway."

"It's still boring as fuck, though."

"Then entertain yourself instead of pissing everyone else off."

"Those are mutually exclusive goals, there, Linky-poo."

He rolled his eyes and did not bother responding; apparently sometimes there was just no way to win with his shadow.

Again they approached the stone door through which they had entered, though they were now escorted by twenty massive Gorons armed with battle axes and greatswords. "I thought we were using some sort of special route . . . ?"

"We are," the lead Goron, Maru, replied. "You will see."

Link blinked, confused, as he pulled on the switch that opened the door to the tunnel. _Whatever._

_**Dude, do you see the size of that friggin' sword? I'll betcha he's makin' up for something, ha!**_

_Get out of my head and don't call me "dude."_

_**No such luck . . . You're fun to piss off.**_

_Oh, dear Goddesses . . ._

_**Ha, ha, see--blasphemy like that gets you stuck with me.**_

"Stop," Maru commanded once they had passed through the doorway. "Goros--find the corners."

"Goros?" Ren muttered to Link. "I thought they were--"

"It's slang," he replied. "Like calling someone 'dude,' or 'guy,' or whatever."

"Ah."

Ten Gorons walked twenty yards ahead of them, evidently searching for some sort of device hidden in the floor. Eventually one called out, "I've got it."

"Open it up," Maru commanded.

Setting aside his weapon, the Goron who had spoken out squared his feet and breathed deeply, raising his titanic fists above his head. With a grunt he smashed his intertwined hands into the ground, managing to shake the stone beneath their feet. The Hylians gasped as a square plate of stone previously indistinguishable from its surroundings sank into the floor with a deep, rocky _clack_. The grating of stone on stone filled the tunnel as the floor began to rumble beneath their feet.

Astonished, Link stared as a large slab of the floor dipped, then tilted downward, becoming a steep slope that descended into darkness. Maru pointed and explained, "This is the passage that lets us go down mountain so fast. We can roll very fast . . . you will slide. You will take longer, but not much--is very polished, slick. Watch elbows." With a grunt he ran forward and curled himself into a compact, armored ball, holding his sword in one hand to the side, and rolled into the abyss with a jubilant cry.

As the others followed Malon walked over to the pit and looked down, then slowly muttered, "You have _got_ to be joking . . . a slide? Pitch black? I don't--"

Dark Link shoved her gently. She teetered on the edge, arms flailing, until she slowly tipped backward and fell, sliding with a brief shriek of surprise headfirst on her back. He distinctly heard the shock in her voice change to rage; words echoed up from the blackness--"_You motherfucker!_"

The shadow doubled over, laughing maniacally, then cried, "Screw you guys, this looks like _fun!_" and flipped into the blackness, landing on his back and yelling his exhileration as he plummeted out of sight.

"Go," Darunia rumbled from behind them. "It is safe, and quite fun, to be honest. I'll shut it behind you."

"You up for it?" Ren asked Alva.

"Let's do it." Hands clasped, as ever, they slid into the blackness, echoing laughter.

Impa and Kain followed, with Alexis returning to her crystal. Karsof went after some debate with his men, bellowing defiance to the cold stone; his Knights followed, leaving Link and Zelda.

He walked up to the edge and looked down at the steep, polished stone slope he could see, and blinked. "Doesn't look too bad," he commented, then turned to Zelda and waved to the blackness. "Ladies first."

Her eyes gleamed with an all-too-familiar defiant glee. He had time to say, "Oh, shit," before she lunged forward and tackled him, sending both plummeting into darkness.

Immediately he lost all sense of vision; all he could feel was the cold, damp air rushing past his face, ruffling his hair, and Zelda lying on top of him, roughly holding on to his tunic. His pack had softened his fall, thankfully; it raised him off of the polished stone, removing any discomfort he may have felt from its hard surface. She laughed atop him, enjoying herself; he joined her, whooping in excitement. His stomach dropped into his boots, leaving him with an amazingly pleasing empty tension in his abdomen, though whether it was from having a beautiful woman lying on top of him or sliding headfirst into nothingness he was not sure.

He felt his center of gravity shift--they were turning. Dimly Link realized that they had entered a steep spiral--he was nearly pasted to the wall through their momentum. He felt one hand disappear from his tunic, only to reappear moments later at his shoulder. All he could see was her flashing white teeth and nearly glowing blue eyes; she had forgotten to fully recreate her disguise in their hurry to return to the dubious safety of Kakariko.

_This is going to be interesting . . ._

--

_**Spill! Did she or did she not?**_

_She didn't do anything--_

_**Why are you snickering?**_

_What?_Link approached the gate he had passed through less than two days prior, waving to a surprised guard on Kakariko's town wall. _I'm not--_

_**Oh-ho-ho, buddyboy, I'm not that stupid. You're hiding something from me . . . What, did she jerk you off on the--**_

_Shut the hell up about her! She's not some "broad," and you'd do well to remember as such. Nothing--_

_**Don't feed me that line of bullshit. Something happened that you're not letting me see--**_

_--And I'm enjoying every moment of it--_

_**--And the only thing a pretty boy like you would really want to hide would be you getting busy with a certain blonde!**_

The gates ratcheted upward; Link, Zelda, and the rest walked forward, seeking the tavern, as Karsof dismissed the Knights and their Goron counterparts. Link's elongated shadow roiled with his agitated shadow's presence; it was nearly sundown. _Or maybe I'm just doing this to screw with you._

_**Or maybe the head honcho wants to screw **_**you!**

Link grinned. _This almost makes up for you being such an asshole._

"Link?" Ren queried, raising an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

"This little prick won't spill the beans!" his shadow viciously spat.

The Hylian laughed, "Don't ask."

_**Come on! I'm just curious!**_

_So?_

_**So tell me!**_

_Nope._

_**Groah, pretty boy, I'm gonna rip you a new one if you don't--**_

_If you rip me a new one I'll never tell, and you know it._

Dark Link's frustration echoed through his lighter counterpart's mind. _**Fuck!**_

Link accosted a patrolling Knight. "Where's Roscin?"

"The wall, sir, overseeing the fortifications."

"Okay. Um, carry on."

"Yes, sir."

Alva asked, "Is it just me or is there more Knights and, uh, recruits here?"

"It's probably not you," Karsof replied, expression grim but voice satisfied. "I've been waiting for my patrols to come back with what they could find."

"Cool. The more the merrier, I guess."

"So we hope."

The group passed with some surprise through the town square where they had spoken to the frightened guards not long ago; the platform had been torn down for supplies, and groups of Knights and men-at-arms sparred in large grids, apparently going through a regimented training plan. Every so often a small group would rotate from instructor to instructor, going over the various skills they would need in the coming war. _It's really going to happen,_ Link realized with some surprise. _We're gonna go head to head with this thing, and it isn't gonna be pretty._

_**Oh, **_**really?**

He ignored his shadow, listening to the muted hammering of defenses being erected and the _clangs_of weapons clashing together in mock combat. Impa slowly intoned, "This is a sight I had hoped I would never see again."

They continued through the town, surprised at the amount of change that had been incurred in such a short time. None stood idle; every able-bodied man and woman was at work, everything from peeling unnecessary wood from homes for reinforcing fortifications to ferrying supplies to and from different sections of town. Even small children could be observed carrying pails of water and ladles, moving among the sweating populace with water to cool their throats. The group shuffled to the side, letting a man leading a pair of horses labor past; many wooden beams trailed behind them, lashed into a bundle and tethered to the horses' straining flanks. "I have to hand it to him," Zelda breathed, "Roscin knows how to get things done."

"That he does, ma'am," Karsof agreed. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Perhaps I was wrong."

The rather odd group eventually made their way to the western gate, where the work was the most frenzied. Per Zelda's suggestion, rows of sharpened stakes had been planted points-upward for ten feet inside the town wall, ensuring that any Rak attempting to leap their defenses would find a gory landing. The gate itself had been reinforced with bands of wood and steel; even a battering ram would find its penetration to be a formidable task. Currently it stood open, allowing workers to trickle in and out with supplies; further work was being performed outside. An armored figure stood with its back to them atop the town wall, barking orders to workers outside its stony embrace.

"Roscin!" Link cried.

The man turned, surprised, and called out, "That was fast!" in return. Turning and giving concise orders to a subordinate beside him, he quickly scampered down a ladder, made his way to them, and saluted. "Impa, Generals, your Highness."

"Relax," he replied in lieu of the others.

"Thank you. How did your expedition fare?"

"Very well, though we had a brief scrape with some wildlife." He grinned, "Darunia's pledged his full support, both as a fortress in case of retreat and as a military supplement; his troops should be here late tonight or tomorrow."

"Excellent! Well done, sirs. We've been very busy as well, though that can wait--can we evacuate the villagers?"

"As soon as possible."

He sighed, relieved. "Most of the men have elected to stay, but there are many of the elderly and women and children who cannot fight. They're already packed and ready; they can leave as soon as you would like."

Link turned to Zelda, eyes questioning; she replied, "Please send them off as quickly as possible. The Knights who accompanied us will tell them of the quickest route. Do they have an escort?"

"Of course."

"Very well. That's a relief; the less innocent blood spilled, the better."

"Yes, ma'am. Ah, are those Gorons I see back there?"

They turned, en masse, to behold Maru leading his Gorons toward them, parting the throngs through sheer size. "We had an escort on the way back, twenty of Darunia's reserve; as Link said, the rest will be here as soon as they can."

He laughed, "That's great; their size alone will boost morale. Besides, we can use their help with the fortifications. Speaking of which, may I show you what we have accomplished in your absence?"

"Please."

"Come," he said, waving them towards the gate. "I'd have someone take your packs, but I'm afraid we're rather busy with slightly more important matters. If it wouldn't be a problem, we can swing past the tavern and drop them off there."

"That would be fine, Roscin."

They made their way through the gate, beholding a small sea of workers busy digging trenches and erecting spike-lined pits, angled spears grounded in the dirt to eliminate cavalry, and other such defenses. "We have been working whenever possible to erect internal and external fortifications," Roscin proudly announced. "A full-scale assault on the enemy's part would be very painful to witness."

"Link!" Maru called from behind them. "How may we assist you?"

He nodded to Roscin, who replied, "Spread out throughout the village; we need the most help near the western and southern walls. Wherever you think you can help, just ask one of the commanding officers; they will instruct you further."

The large creature nodded curtly and left, anxious to help; he had informed of the full extent of their plight. Roscin continued, "All work is focused inside, however, after nightfall; we can't risk being caught in and killed with our own traps."

"Wise," Kain commended. "Make sure you do not forget that not all of Reval Keshan is nocturnal, however; they have the potential to attack at any time."

"I know; we have archers patrolling the walls at all times of day and night, and I believe you have seen the extent of internal patrols. If any attack, we will know." He waved them back towards the town.

"Have any attacked?" Malon asked.

"Not so far, thankfully. You are right; they are regrouping. I believe the workers have finally understood that all hell is about to come--they have put all possible effort into their work." They continued further into town, passing several half-complete buildings that swarmed with people. "We've also been taking apart many of the houses that were still being built for supplies; several of your Knights, Karsof, have set about building ballistae, catapults and such, though I don't think any are functioning as of right now.

"New recruits and detachments of Knights have been trickling in; the houses are crammed. I've organized the work and patrols into several shifts, which lightens the load somewhat, but we will soon be overflowing. However, once the town is evacuated we'll have more space, so that isn't an overbearing concern. You've obviously seen the stakes, planted at your request, as well . . . In addition to the new shifts we have moved all noncombatants toward the town core and established the buildings closest to the perimeter as makeshift barracks, putting the men closest to the fighting and the innocents farthest from it in the event of an attack . . ."

Their tour concluded thirty minutes later at the tavern, where Roscin departed for his duties, inviting them to settle back in and rest, resuming command later.

A bare quarter of an hour later Link nearly regretted his decision to help out with the brute labor. Even though the sun had disappeared below the horizon, staining the cloudy sky a medley of reds and purples, he had to remove his tunic and shield; though he dripped with sweat he could not dare to bare himself any more, in light of the increasing chances of attack.

He dropped another thick wooden beam with a dull _thok_ and wiped his face. Breathing heavily, he asked, "Anything else?"

The Knight supervising him and his fellow laborers appraised him with an admiring eye. "You don't give up easy, do you?"

"No."

"For your own good, I'm ordering you to take at least a half hour break--"

"I outrank General Karsof. You can't order me, but I'm asking--what else can I do?"

The Knight recoiled, sputtering, "My apologies, sir--"

"It's fine, and please don't call me 'sir.' "

He nodded, somewhat bemused. "Very well. We need two parallel trenches, about a foot wide, three feet long, and four deep, to hold the ends of those logs you lugged over here."

"To be braced up against the door?"

"Yes."

Link sighed and looked over the western gate's defenses. He had helped reinforce it with additional wooden boards and flat strips of steel the blacksmiths had hammered out for the purpose, also adding another rack for holding a wooden beam that could be placed horizontally across the gate, making a total of two. "So we'd be able to bar the doors twice, then stick one end of those--" he nodded at the beams "--in each trench and brace them diagonally into the gate, one for each side?"

"Correct.""

He nodded his approval. "Grab me a shovel and I'll get it done." As the Knight hurried off he leaned against the cool stone wall, letting his heart settle. Their strategy was to double the guards along the top of the wall, adding archers and spearmen with long lances to spot and hopefully deal with any attackers. The men were thankfully alert, their resolve tempered by the Knights' discipline; there was none of the dangerous slacking that had run rampant before Link and the rest had departed for the Gorons. As Roscin had claimed, at least half of their forces were resting in makeshift barracks at any given time; at the slightest inclination of attack they could be moved wherever needed.

Link sighed again and wiped at his sweaty brow. _I should have just gone to bed._

"_Intruder--halt!_"

His head snapped upward. A muffled battle cry drifted to him from further down the wall. _Oh, shit._

Snatching his shield, he clambered up the ladder beside him to the top of the wall and sprinted towards a disturbance several dozen yards down its length. _As soon as I consider resting, of course. Someone up there must really hate me._

He arrived in time to see the Guard that had shouted the warning lunge forward, his back to Link; a brief second later he stumbled backward, disarmed, and collapsed, apparently unconscious. Link pulled free his sword.

In the Guard's place stood a mid-sized man, face and stature muffled in a thick black cloak, hood raised; he realised with a surprised gasp that it was styled much as Kain's, though its hem was trimmed with red, not silver, and it was not of as fine a material. _It's his man--the Blackguard, or whatever he called them. _However, instead of Kain's intricate underlying armor, he wore a simple black garment, similarly trimmed with red. Though a sword hung at his waist he held the fallen Guard's halberd in a ready stance, knees bent and tip leveled towards Link's chest. His face was obscured with a simple cloth mask, leaving only his deep red eyes visible. _He didn't attack, he was trying to get to Kain and the Guards thought he was Reval Keshan . . . He doesn't know Hylian, shit!_

Link stopped ten feet from the man--_Rass,_he thought; he was dangerous--and froze, thinking of what to do. The Rass considered him evenly, then spun around, lashing out with the polearm's butt; the Guard behind him crumpled to the ground, bleeding from the temple but alive.

"Hey!"

The cloaked figure turned cautiously toward him, weapon ready, but did not attack. "Look," Link continued, "I'm putting down my sword." He slowly crouched and set his sword on the stone walkway, not breaking eye contact. Straightening--slowly, slowly--he said, "We're on your side. Put down the halberd."

No gleam of understanding lurked in the Blackguard's red eyes, but he seemed to understand Link's body language. Though he did not relinquish his weapon, neither he did not attack. _How do I tell him to relax . . . Dammit, where's Alexis?_"I'm allied with Kain and Alexis." The Rass's eyes twitched in recognition of his superiors' names; a brief stream of apparent gibberish slipped from his covered lips. "I don't understand," the Hylian responded calmly. _Body language and tone, that's all I have . . ._He held out his hand, palm downward, and slowly lowered it to the ground, looking pointedly at the halberd's steel tip. The Rass watched him repeat the gesture, but did not move. _Come on, come on, where's Alexis--_

_Twang_.

"No!"

The Rass dropped into a crouch as an arrow sliced cleanly through the air where his throat had been. Link flinched, surprised, and called out, "No, wait, stand down--"

It was too late. The Rass reacted quickly and efficiently, plucking a knife from the folds of his robe and sending it flipping through the air at the stymied archer behind him. Though Link's view was blocked by the Rass's body, he heard a shriek of pain. _Dammit!_

The Blackguard turned back to Link, eyes narrowed in anger and suspicion. "Oh, no, wait," he sputtered, "I didn't mean for that--"

The Blackguard stiffened abruptly, eyes clenching shut; the halberd clattered to the ground. _Fuck, he's been hit--_

His red eyes flickered open. "Lenk?"

Link tensed. "Um, Link?"

The black-garbed man nodded, straightening; he stood several inches taller than the Hylian, though still not notably tall. "Link," he corrected himself, voice deep and thick; his tongue seemed to be somewhat fuddled as he haltingly continued, "Alexis orders me to surrender peacefully and return with you to tavern."

"To tavern? --Ah, thank the Goddesses for her," he replied. Aware of the Knights sprinting towards the two of them, he turned to the would-be rescuers and called out, "Relax, he's a friend. Return to what you were doing." He picked up his sword and slid it back into its sheath, sighing his relief. "Look, let's go. I'm sorry for that display; they've been ordered to attack any who try and climb the walls."

"Wise. My apologies for the injured men; they are only unconscious, I believe. I did not throw the knife hard enough to put more than a scratch on the archer through his hauberk." He spoke more skillfully now, apparently coming to grips with Alexis's miraculous ability.

"Yeah, I'll take your word for that." He turned and began to walk towards the ladder he had ascended minutes earlier. "Come on, let's get you to the tavern."

--

They walked through the tavern door, shutting it behind them. Kain, Alexis, and the rest sat around a cluster of tables, sans Roscin. "What's this I hear of injured Guards?" Karsof thundered.

"Relax, they're fine," Link responded calmly. He was growing used to the man's temper.

Kain nodded to the Blackguard, who returned with a shallow bow. "Everyone, meet Soren, a member of my highest corps of personal guards." He went pointed to each in turn, saying, "Malon, Queen Zelda, General Karsof, Dark Link--" the shadow chuckled at the Rass's confused expression "--and Ren and Alva, with whom I believe you are acquainted."

"Yes, lord."

"Enough of 'lord;' this is all that remains of us. I believe we can afford some measure of familiarity."

Soren nodded. "Very well."

"Please sit," Zelda invited. "Welcome."

Link and the Rass acquiesced, the latter responding, "Thank you, your majesty."

"Kain's offer extends to me as well, Soren. Don't worry; we are friends here."

He nodded. "Thank you."

Link took advantage of the new-found peace to finally look over the odd newcomer. Though his eyes--if he had any; he could not tell--were obviously covered, he appeared to be able to see as well as anyone else. _Didn't Kain say something about that? Seeing things without eyes, or something?_In addition, though they were indoors and in relative safety he did not remove his hood, perhaps seeking to remain anonymous or such. Or, Link reflected, it could be some sort of religion; Kain's and Soren's robes seemed to somewhat resemble something a priest would wear. Still, he could not see any of the Rass's skin, covered as he was from head to toe in black. Upon closer scrutiny he observed several weapons secreted throughout his person, from two gently curved daggers sheathed unobtrusively on the inside of his forearms to an odd pair of cylinders capped with bulbous metal spheres thrust through his belt to his more obvious sword. The Hylian would have bet money on additional weapons hidden throughout the folds of his robe.

"We were about to go over our long-term standings, but I believe you are more pertinent. How--" she flinched in surprise as the lizard Kain had captured--the Scarog--leaped onto the table and scuttled on two legs toward Soren, jumping onto his shoulder and protectively perching there. Zelda smiled. "I believe you two know each other."

He nodded, eyes light, and scratched under its chin. "His name is Teik. May I ask where you found him?"

"I snatched him up on Death Mountain, but Kain tamed him somehow," Link replied. "He ran right up to him and sat on his shoulder."

"You were on the mountain as well?"

"Yes."

"I escaped through the portal and emerged in some sort tunnel. After wandering for quite a while--at least two days; I could not keep track--I reached the surface somewhere several hundred feet up the mountain's slopes, but was separated from Teik in a rockslide. I thought he was dead. You have my thanks."

Link shrugged as Zelda continued, "So you came through a portal in the mountain? Did you see anything else?"

"No. Actually, yes--a strange creature I thought at first was a boulder; it seemed benign enough, but I avoided it, regardless."

"No signs of Reval Keshan? What you saw was a Goron, by the way; they are our allies."

"No." He shrugged, then continued, "Then again, it usually does not leave any, and I couldn't track it on bare rock. I came through the portal late enough that it could have escaped into the tunnels; I was nearly a day behind it. I'm not sure why it didn't shut the portal behind it."

"Ah," Zelda reflected. "I don't know much of this creature, but I do know that portals are often summoned for a set amount of time; it could have wanted to leave itself time in case it could not, ah, finish up in time."

"Perhaps."

A brief pause. "So, Soren," she began, "I'll give you the choice; should we debrief you or should you debrief us first?"

The Blackguard replied, "I believe I have news that cannot wait."

"Please explain. We would also like to know how you arrived here safely, as well, and how you managed to come from the west--the plains, which we have every reason to believe are being roamed by Reval Keshan--instead of from the mountain."

He nodded, seeming to disturb Teik. The lizard chirped oddly and scuttled to his opposite shoulder. "You are going to be attacked. Soon."

"What? How do you know?" Karsof snapped, alarmed.

"I descended the mountain's northwest slopes, only a mile or so from this town, and set out for my vague southwest; I had no where to go, and my appearance has had me attacked on sight in my own world--there was no reason for me to believe this was any different. I hoped to avoid undue notice and hopefully find another of my kind; only a small section of Reval Keshan made it through the portal I did, as there was no evidence of a large host of creatures, so I hoped it had created another to transport the rest of itself, possibly also inadvertedly saving a few of our own as well. I assume I was correct, given your presence." he waved to the other Rass.

"Regardless, after a day I came upon a small village. I did not enter, but instead remained around the long grass at its edges; I found that its inhabitants had been killed and absorbed by Reval Keshan. In addition, a large army, of sorts, was resting in the village center; it was amassing its forces, with several hundred assorted 'men' and at least a hundred Rak. Have the others informed you of Rak?"

"Yes. We encountered a few of them, to say the least."

"Then you knew my worry. More streams of creatures were also moving in from the north, west, and south." Karsof cursed loudly. "As they were arriving from the three cardinal directions, I assumed they would be heading west, the way I had come. When I left, meaning to try and inform this town--we're directly in their path--of its dangerous status, it had at least five hundred men with more Rak." He shrugged, eliciting a grunt from the Scarog on his shoulder. "I came as quickly as I could, then tried to hail a guard and was attacked. I believe you know the rest."

Silence reigned supreme for the better part of a minute. It was broken by Karsof, who growled, "How far?"

"I've run for twenty-four hours, taking as few breaks as I dared."

He raised his eyebrow. "You don't exactly appear exhausted."

"I've been trained for the worst, sir. I am weary, but not unduly so."

As he huffed his scorn Zelda cut in, "Does anyone know how fast it can travel en masse?"

Kain replied shortly, "Fast. If Soren could make it here in twenty-four hours it could likely make the trip in thirty-six."

The General snorted and grunted, "The best-trained army can't march as fast as a running man."

"This is not an army, General. I doubt that it would need to rest unduly, or even sleep. It has incredible coordination. Do not underestimate its potential; it be this town's demise."

Karsof seemed sobered by Kain's solemn tone. "Very well; so it could attack in as little as twelve hours. For caution's sake, let's cut that down to six. I talked to Roscin; we've got about four hundred men-at-arms--basically farmers with whatever weapons they could scrounge up; we're in the process of training them as we go--and seventy-five Knights, counting our escort up the mountain and those who have come in from the rest of the plains; more are trickling in. If we can keep them out of the town itself I think we could hold them off."

Link nodded his agreement. "I think the fortifications can make up for being outnumbered, and we've got the Gorons coming in sometime in the next two days; with them I think we'd actually outnumber them."

"Did you notice any siege engines? Trebuchet, catapults, battering rams, and such?"

Soren shook his head. "No, sir. However, it has typical relied on more, ah, organic means to achieve the same goal."

"Organic?"

"It can create large creatures that would be able to smash through walls or gates. It has sufficient numbers for at least one; if we intend to stay here and defend the town we'll need to have some means of dealing with large, armored creatures. They could do immense damage if left unchecked."

Link sighed and scratched at his head. "Anyone have any ideas? I know that we have several Knights building ballistae and such, but getting those onto the walls so we could shoot downward at something attacking the gates would be hard, if not impossible."

"You'd be able to take care of them," Zelda decided. "You've done it before."

"Very, _very_ different circumstances, Zelda," Link replied, slightly flustered. "For one, those weren't in the middle of a large scale battle."

"Don't sell yourself short, Link," she reassured him confidently. "You're one of--actually, _the _greatest warrior in Hyrule, probably for at least several centuries onward, given your title." His cheeks pinkened slightly; his shadow laughed at his discomfort. "I have faith that you and your shadow can take down nearly anything."

The Hylian scratched somewhat awkwardly at his elongated ears as the others stared at him. "I'm not _that_ good at that, you know."

"Oh, yes, you are. Especially with the others supporting you; is anyone against following Link and, to a lesser extent, his shadow as a group against any of Reval Keshan's, ah, surprises in the event of an attack?"

Even Karsof did not argue, remembering his performance in Death Mountain. "Very well," she continued. "I'd reccomend you follow his directions; he is not what he appears."

_Gee, thanks, I guess. Subtle._

--

After the impromptu meeting had adjourned Dark Link followed Impa outside, hurrying to walk alongside her as she headed towards the training grounds at the town's center. "Hey, Impa--"

"No." She didn't even look at him.

"What do ya mean, no? I haven't even said anything yet!" he sputtered.

"There's only one thing you would think to ask me for. And the answer is no."

"But I need it, you know--_we _need it. You know how powerful Link is; how'd you like to have two of him?"

She growled, "I already do, and you're a enough of a potential threat as it is. We don't need you running around with even more power."

"Goddesses, lady, I'm Link's shadow! What's a little more gonna do?"

"I don't know." She deftly stepped around a panting worker hauling a load of wood; Dark Link smoothly melted into shadow, slipped beneath him, and reformed at her side once she had passed him. "But I'd not care to find out."

"This thing knows I can't appear in light--it held me hostage, you know! If it attacks in the day we'll need all the help we can get."

The Sage of Shadow stopped and spun to face him, eyes glowing with anger, and jabbed a finger into his chest. "If you think I'm stupid enough to believe your pitiful excuse for allying with the thing than you're even more foolish than I thought, shadow. Don't believe that I believe or trust you for an _instant_--the only reason I'm not sealing you back in my temple right now is because Zelda explicitly ordered me not to. But _I'm watching you_. If you so much as look at someone wrong you'll be gone. And there's no way in _hell _I'm going to give you an artifact that would let you run amok like a wolf among sheep! I'm no fool--you were here murdering people not long ago, waiting for me to return so you could get your hands on it. _There's no chance._ Be glad you aren't sealed in the temple with the others."

He didn't bother to follow as she stalked off, anger smoldering in her breast. "Fuck," he mumbled to himself, turning back to the tavern, "menopause must be a bitch."

--

Dawn.

Holding half of a loaf of bread, Link pushed through the tavern door and shivered as he felt the cool outside air wash over him. Chewing on his freshly baked breakfast, he began to slowly stroll towards the town wall, enjoying the morning. The labor had not slowed overnight; if anything, its speed had increased, spurned onward by the Blackguard's news. He was pleased to note that he no longer could see any children or residents unsuited for fighting. _Roscin must have sent them on their way; good. Less to worry about._

He tore off another hunk of bread and enjoyed its aroma before biting into its soft warmth. Few things made you appreciate food, he noted, than eating nothing but stale bread and water for weeks on end. The town was still all but enshrouded in shadow, as the sun had not yet cleared Death Mountain's monumental crest, but the Gorons' home was crowned with a halo of blooming yellows, pinks, and oranges as the sun's brilliance began to spill across the sky. Though he could see the faint wisps of his breath, it would be a warm day--there was not a single cloud blotting the sky.

The bread was half gone by the time he reached the western wall; he held it in his teeth as he clambered up another creaky wooden ladder, mindful of the dew beading on the footrests. Pulling off another piece, he stood atop the wall and froze.

A dark blot on the horizon stood out from the endless waves of green.

_It's here._ His stomach dropped; he lowered the bread from his mouth, appetite gone.

"I noticed it about a half hour ago."

Link twitched and jerked his head to the right. Roscin merely stared at the blotted horizon. "Do the others--?"

"I sent a message to the tavern to notify them of it when they wake. Apparently he missed you; understandable. You don't precisely look like a general. If it gets any closer I'll have them notified."

"Goddesses." He shook his head slowly, hoping against hope that he was not seeing what was before his eyes. "It's easy to talk about shit this big . . . It doesn't sink in 'til it comes up and stares you in the eye."

Roscin nodded somberly. "Hard to grasp the scope of it . . . And something tells me it's gonna get worse."

"I guess it's waiting for dark for the Rak. It's not even bothering with surprise; fucker's laughing in our faces."

"We have cavalry. If you'd like, we can send a surprise--"

"No," Link interrupted somewhat harshly. "They'd get slaughtered; our fortifications are our only advantage here. Besides, it probably wants us to try and attack it."

He nodded. "True." After a pause he continued, "May I make a suggestion?"

"You know me well enough--go ahead."

"I wouldn't do any work today." He pointed his chin at the blatantly positioned army. "I get the feeling you're gonna need it tonight."

"Yeah, I know."

"Besides that, though, you might want to see a blacksmith--preferably one of the Knights' own. You know, get some armor on ya, patch up that hauberk, that sort'a thing."

He tore his eyes from the horizon and handed the bread's remnants to Roscin. "Here, give that to a sentry. I'm gonna take you up on that advice."

The High Knight nodded. "Very wise, Link. Hey, watch your back, okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded, starting down the ladder, "you too."

By the time he reached the blacksmith the sun had begun to peek out from behind Death Mountain's summit, lending the town a pale yet pervasive light that gleamed off of the dew-crowned grass. Link knew the building well enough; he had visited it many times after finding his shield mangled after a fight. The squat brick building sat next to the gate to the mountain's slopes, making it that much closer to the Gorons' expert advice and supplies.

Hearing the raucous _clang_ing of hammer on hot steel, he rapped briefly on the door and let himself in, knowing there was no way that he could be heard over the din. He was greeted with a wave of hot, dry heat; the forge was fired up, lending the shop a ruddy red glow. The muscled blacksmith, Armand, hunched over the anvil, back to Link; his hammer flashed up and down, crying stridently for attention and spitting sparks from the red-hot metal it beat into form. "Hey, Armand!"

The hammer hitched, then froze in midair. "Gimme a sec," the man gruffly asked, and dunked a blazingly hot sword into a tub of water beside him. Steam hissed violently, momentarily obscuring Armand's stocky figure. After a moment he set his hammer down and turned around, wiping his sweat-laden jowls with the back of one gloved hand. "Link!"

He grinned and stepped forward, extending one hand as the blacksmith enthusiastically pumped his arm up and down. "Been too long."

"Oh, far too long, you know. Where've'ya been? I heard you moved east, or something."

He shrugged. "I just took a break. Went to Termina, hung around, did some traveling."

"Ah-ha, Termina, that's what they said, huh. I knew that." He shook his head briefly, sending droplets of sweat flying. "Anyway, it's good to see ya around here, even in a shitty little time like this. What can I do for ya?"

"We're gonna get some ugly stuff going on soon--probably by nightfall--and I need some protection."

"Mm," he grunted, scratching his cheek. "Yeah, big surprise there. I've been cranking swords and armor out like crazy for a week; reminds me of times best left forgotten. Anyway, anything in particular you looking for? I know you've got quite the collection of stuff; I'd rather not make something you already have."

Link hesitated as he took a brief mental inventory of his supplies. "I need chain mail, preferably a short-sleeved hauberk, and greaves, at the very least."

"Ah," he exclaimed after a brief moment, "I've got a perfect hauberk--just finished it last night, so it should be good 'n' cool by now." He shuffled over to a heavy wooden chest and flipped the catch to open the lid. A moment later he held up what appeared to be a shuffled curtain of steel rings. "I made it so it'd fit just about anybody; sleeves only go to the elbow, so your arms are light 'n' easy but vulnerable, so I'd watch it if ya go for this." With a grunt he bounced it up and down, setting its myriad rings clinking. "Not light, but not heavy, all things considered. I think it's about forty pounds, give or take a few."

"Can I try it on?"

"Go ahead."

Link stripped off his tunic and swordbelt, then slowly wormed his way into the hauberk's steel embrace. It _was_heavy--he'd have to get used to that quickly, for his sake--but not to the point of uselessness. He was essentially ensconced in a curtain of steel from mid-thigh to neck and elbow. Thankfully his undershirt was relatively thick, otherwise the rigors of battle might make the rings that were supposed to save him grind away his skin. He jumped up and down briefly, getting a feel for its weight, and windmilled his arms, testing his range of movement. "Very nice," he complemented, pleased. "How much?"

"Forty rupees."

Link balked, "Forty? This thing's worth at least eighty, and that's being--"

"Shut up and take the deal, Link. I still owe you from that shipment you protected for me."

After a fair amount of ironic haggling he slapped fifty rupees into the blacksmith's palm. As he pulled his tunic and weaponry back on over his new chain mail Armond asked somberly, "How bad are we? The town, I mean."

He sighed, fiddling with his sword belt buckle. "I'm not gonna lie, we're in some deep shit, but if everyone really rallies together I think we can beat this thing."

" 'Deep shit?' Your optimism is overwhelming me. Anyway, 'bout those greaves, I've got quite a few lying around for some Guards or some stuff like that . . . Just a sec." He rummaged inside the chest again, pulling out three bundles wrapped in cloth. "Here we go. I've got three, each a different size . . ." Armand plopped two bundles onto a small desk with a muffled metallic _clunck_. He unwrapped the first, displaying two identical curved metal plates, molded and beaten into a rough shape that would fit over the shin. "These are just from ankle to below the knee; relatively light, but doesn't cover much. It buckles right over your leg, but I'd recommend keeping some leather or cloth or somethin' between the metal and whatever you're wearing beneath it, otherwise you may end up with a fractured shin."

Link nodded. "Let's see what else you've got."

"Wise." The blacksmith dropped the greaves to the ground, their fall muffled by the cloth beneath them, and unwrapped the second bundle. "These are heavier and cover more, but to be honest, they might be a tad unwieldy; I don't know how you fight, but this is for the guy that lets the bad guys do the dodging."

"They look a little big . . . What's the last one?"

The greaves dropped with another _clunck_as Armand grabbed the final bundle. "I'd recommend these, myself. Look, this is basically your compromise between the first two--it's fairly strong, covers much, but isn't that heavy. A glancing strike'll probably give you an ugly bruise but nothing worse; if someone is pretty intent on chopping off your foot, though, it'll either hold or restrict how deep the sword or whatever can go. Maybe instead of loosing a limb you'll be limping for a while; not perfect, but, hey, better than the opposite, ya know? It's got a little plate that covers your foot itself, in case anyone tries to take off your toes; the shin plate overlaps it, though, so there isn't a gap they could exploit. Got another one for your kneecap, same deal, connected with a little strip of leather on the inside, another strap goes around the back of your knee--simple stuff. Anyway, what _I _really like about this type is how it covers your back.

"Whoever thought of this was pretty damn smart, I'll give 'em that. The shin section--lower greaves, to get technical with 'ya--is basically a mold of a shin, split vertically along the sides so that it can clap open and shut on these little leather hinges. All ya do is shut it around your shin, buckle 'er up, and you've got a new steel skin, front and back. Buckle the knee 'n' foot plate on and you're good to go."

Link held the steel contraption, impressed. "How much?"

"Twenty."

"Goddesses, Armand, you're gonna--"

"I'd get nothing if a Guard took it." He shrugged. "I get some pocket change, you get to keep your legs healthy. Sounds good for me."

He sighed and exchanged the greaves for a red rupee. "You're too generous. Probably why you're poorer than shit."

The man laughed. "Prob'ly. Oh, and just to let ya know, I'd go and spar or something with those on; you'll want to get used to the weight."

He nodded. "Hey, thanks again."

"Just do me a favor and put it to good use, huh?"

Link chuckled darkly, "I hope I don't have to."

--

The Hylian found Ren and Alva sparring lightly in a small corner of the main square, away from the rest of the busy trainees. He opened his mouth to call to them, then stopped. An impromptu target range had been set up along the base of the windmill, with twenty scarecrows set up "shoulder" to "shoulder" with their backs to the wall. Malon stood twenty yards away, sending arrow after arrow streaking into her designated scarecrow; the hay-stuffed target resembled a pincushion. Link walked up to her instead, surprised at her speed and accuracy. "You're pretty good at that, huh?"

She turned to him, surprised, then resumed her shooting. "I've been practicing for two years."

Pulling his own bow from its quiver, he took the lane next to her and put an arrow to the string. "A lot of people who've been training since their teens aren't that good yet. You've got a knack for it."

"Thanks," she replied tersely. A small bead of sweat adorned her temple, twitching as she pulled the string nearly to her cheek and let loose another arrow; the scarecrow jumped, pierced through the chest. "I try."

Link pulled the string back, aimed briefly, and let go; his scarecrow's lumpy bag of a head whipped backward. "You make your own arrows?"

"When I can." _Twang_; she pulled another arrow from her quiver. "I'm okay at it, I think, but I end up buying a lot. It's easier."

He nodded. "Hard to find straight enough wood, anyway. The tips can be aggravating."

"Mm-hm." Firing another arrow, she sighed and lowered her bow. "I'm out. Don't shoot, I'm going to get them back."

"Yeah." He let his arm go slack as she walked down the lane, gait stiff. _Why's she so uptight?--oh. I'm a dumbass._

After a moment she returned, quiver full, and took her place, putting another arrow to the string. "What?" She gave him a look. "You're staring."

He shrugged. "Worried 'bout tonight? You seem tense."

"I'm fine." She sank another arrow into her scarecrow's throat. "I'll be fine."

"That's not what I asked," he gently pushed.

She paused. "I just want to back at that thing. I don't care if I'm worried."

He shot another arrow. "That isn't the best motivation, you know. Revenge, I mean. It'll cloud your judgement."

"How would you know?" she snapped defensively. "You don't even have anyone to loose."

Link stiffened. She sighed and apologized, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm just worried."

"It's fine," he grunted. "I know how you feel. It isn't great."

She shook her head. "I shouldn't even be here."

He raised his eyebrows. "How?"

"You've done stuff for the Family; I know that much. Roscin's a High Knight. Karsof's a General. Dark Link's powerful enough to be important. Kain, Ren, and the rest all know what we're dealing with. Impa's a Sage." She grunted and shot another arrow. "I'm a farmgirl who happened to be in the thing's way. There's no reason for me to be with you guys."

He shrugged. "Zelda isn't stupid, Mal. I like to think I'm not either, but I have my doubts. Look, you're proof that this thing can be beaten. Besides, for you this is personal--this bastard killed your family and basically screwed you over. We're just letting you do what you'd try to do anyway--we're giving you the tools you need."

Malon was silent for several minutes. "Thanks."

"Hm?"

"I don't think I ever thanked you for saving me."

He shrugged. "You did. Besides, there's no need for it."

"Don't feed me that crock, Link. I saw the looks you shot Ren right after I woke up. You were the only one who had any hope of saving me."

He shrugged mutely.

"So, thank you."

"It's nothing--"

"Shut up and take the thank you, Link."

He smiled, internally marvelling at the second time he'd heard the phrase that day. "You're welcome, Mal."

--

Dark Link snorted into his beer. _**Oh, be still, my heart! What a fuckin' pussy.**_ Upending his mug, he chugged the frothing beverage and rapped the counter. "Hey, come on, I'm thirsty."

The bartender took his mug with a sigh and carried it over to a tapped keg. "Isn't a little early for beer?"

He laughed. "It is _never_ the wrong time to drink. _Ever_."

The mug plopped down before him, nearly overflowing. "Here. Number three."

The shadow grinned, then drank nearly a third of it in one go and wiped a thin mustache of froth from his lip. "Ah, very nice. Keep this up and I'll promote you, or whatever High Knights do."

"Of course," he snorted. The portly man leaned against the counter a fair distance away on the bar, sighing at his unpredictable customer and scratching the bald dome of his head. "Shouldn't you be sober? We can actually see the bad guys, you know. They're just waiting 'till night, I heard."

"Oh, come on, now," he groaned. "Didn't you ever learn that you get a profit by getting people _to_ drink, not telling them _not_ to?"

"I'd rather be alive to spend what little money I already have."

"Ugh, shut up and poor yourself a whiskey. You're boring sober."

"It's not even noon yet. I think I'll pass." The man scratched at his gray-flecked beard. _Goddesses, what's wrong with this guy? Beyond the entire Satanic look, of course._

"Wuss," the shadow goaded, and laughed. "Come on, Lloyd. What's your name? Is it Lloyd?"

"No," he replied bemusedly. "It's Derek."

"Fft, Derek. Every good bartender should be named Lloyd. I mean, all _my_ bartenders should be named Lloyd, and right now you're my bartender, so you're Lloyd, eh, Lloyd?"

The newly dubbed "Lloyd" rolled his eyes. "And _you_ are drunk."

"Oh, Goddesses, if I'm drunk your name's Derek, not Lloyd. I'm just off my rocker. Crazy." He twirled a finger around his pointed ear and rolled his eyes in emphasis, flashing his oddly pointed teeth in a slightly morbid smile.

"Finally," Derek sighed under his breath, "something we can agree on."

"Jeez, Lloyd, for a bartender you're pretty snide. I mean, you're not even hanging out by me. Come on, come here, Lloyd. You're breaking the psycho-bartender dynamic."

He sighed and walked over, standing behind the bar in front of the shadow. _Whatever. He's a paying customer, after all._ "Psycho-bartender dynamic?"

"Don't play dumb, Lloyd. Here, I'm empty. Fill 'er up." As the bartender slowly walked back to the keg, Dark Link continued, "It's a well known fact that every psychotic son of a bitch needs a bartender to vent to and get drunk with and shit."

"And the bartender's name has to be Lloyd?" He set down the mug in front of the shadow.

"Fuck yeah, you know it. Mighty astute of you, Lloyd." He gulped at his beer. "Then," he grinned, tapping the bar with a ragged fingernail, "eventually you have to make some sort of remark that sets off the psycho. The psycho gets all violent and threatening, and maybe even roughs up Lloyd a bit, but let's him go 'cuz that's what he has to do. It's in the big script o' life, you know."

"Oh, the _big script o' life._ Of course, how could I forget about _that?_"

Dark Link surged to his feet, snatching the man by the throat, and lifted him bodily into the air. As he coughed and struggled, beating on the shadow's gauntleted forearm, his attacker snarled, "Now _what_ the _fuck_ did I hear in that tone of yours? Are you _fucking_ with _me? _Are you _jerking_ me around? 'Cuz I really hate being fucked with, Lloyd, I _really _hate being fucked with!" Holding the man suspended by the throat with one hand, he grabbed his mostly full mug of beer and chugged it dry. The shadow grinned, wiping at his mouth, and laughed, "See? It _always _happens! And just when you begin to worry 'bout Lloyd, Lloyd, the psycho lets him go." His hand relaxed, letting the man crumple to his knees, striking his chin sharply on the bar. As he kneeled there, gasping and massaging his throat and bloody chin, Dark Link chuckled, "Don't bother kicking me out. I'm leaving."

He slammed his mug contently onto the bar and stalked out. As he pushed through the door, Derek thought, _Crazy son of a bitch . . . He didn't even pay his fucking tab!_

With a groan he fainted.

--

Sunset.

Link strapped on his greaves, feeling a familiar knob of worry in his gut. _If we fall here there will be no hope . . . Any hope of resistance will be crushed before it can grow._ He swallowed and shook his head, determined not to fall victim to his own fears and doubts. _We'll win. We won't fall to some interdemensional freak . . . It's time to show this bastard just exactly who it's fucking with._

He jumped briskly up and down, hearing his new chainmail rattle, and sighed. _I'm good to go._

Five minutes later found him standing atop the town wall, gazing desolately at the all-too-short green expanse that separated the town from the aptly named "eater of worlds." The sun had already disappeared behind Death Mountain's bulk, darkening the land; they did not have much time. "They've grown," he commented.

"Yeah," Ren replied. "Joy."

Their party was spaced out every twenty yards along the western wall, excepting Link, Ren, and Alva, directly facing the enemy. Beside them bustled hundreds of Knights, men-at-arms, and Guards, nervously holding whatever weapon they could bring to the fight. Archers rubbed shoulders with men armed with long spears, hoping to kill whatever tried to assault them before they could scale the wall or smash the gate. Additional archers--including Malon, Link saw--sat atop the roofs of houses close to the wall, meant to thin the enemy ranks by shooting over the wall's defenders' heads and into the bustling mob of attackers that would soon come at them. The hundreds who could not fit atop the wall or could not shoot a bow and arrow waited tersely just inside the wall, prepared to replace any who were killed on the wall or to stem any breach in the gates or wall.

"How are the other sides?" Alva asked.

"They're guarded like this, just not as thickly. We can shift people there if they try to flank us, but I think it's just gonna try and force its way through this wall."

"Probably," she agreed. "It's arrogant. It'll assume it can just punch its way through."

"Lets prove them wrong," Ren said slowly.

Night fell fully.

The grassy plains were a massive velvet blanket comforting the land, turned a mottled purple by the darkness. A full moon glinted overhead, illuminating the defenders with its molten silver rays. Sweat dripped from countless brows; the tension was palpable, raising hair and tightening muscles with its invisible but undeniable sway.

Kain bellowed, "_Here they come!_"

The black army swept across the plains with eerie speed, tainting the land with every footfall. Despite their speed it took them nearly three minutes to draw close enough to pick out individual creatures; the leading wave seemed to be Hylian. _Fodder,_ Link thought. _Sent to tender us up before the muscle comes through and pounds us to hell._

"Archers!" Karsof yelled, "Fire as soon as they come within range! Brace for attack!"

Hundreds of arrows rustled from their respective quivers; bows creaked and tensed, ready to send their cargo on a lethal voyage. "Here they come," Link grunted. "Something tells me this's gonna be a long, long night . . ."

The arrows sprang into the air with a near simultaneous musical _twang-_ing of hundreds of bows; they disappeared into the night, invisible against the black sky. He watched with a dark satisfaction as many of the attackers fell and were trampled. _There we go._

The stream of deadly projectiles resumed in fits and bursts as each archer fired as fast as he could put an arrow to the string. Dozens of the black horde fell, only to be replaced by dozens more. _They aren't even slowing down!_

The black surge finally encountered the pitted fortifications. Hundreds leaped over the pits and scrambled up the long mounds of dirt; even as many tripped and were trampled, or were struck down by arrows, or gored on stakes that had been laid into the pits, only a scant few screams reached Link's ears. For a reason he could not discern this sharpened the grimace on his face, though he did not let up on his withering stream of arrows. A far corner of his mind took in the information and filed it away within the catacombs of his skull.

Soon Reval Keshan's tide was a mere thirty yards from the wall. _I'm gonna run out of arrows soon . . . _He could make out the possessed men--and women, he noted with some discomfort--individually, even see their bloody eyes and the swirling undulations of blackness roiling beneath their skin. They held everything from swords to planks of wood in their hands, though nearly a quarter of them were unarmed.

The solid wall of rampaging flesh slammed into the bare stone of the wall and roiled as though in confusion, stymied by the seemingly impenetrable stone. "What're they gonna do?" Link yelled over the blaring din.

"I don't know," Alva responded in kind, raining arrows down upon the milling combatants. "Wait--they're climbing on each other!"

It was true; with no apparent plan nor structure they began to pile atop one another, slowly forming a rising Hylian--or, rather, not--ladder. The corpses of those who fell were merely used as stepping stones in their bloody ascension. "Shit!" Ragged hands scratched horribly at the sheer stone only three feet below Link's vantage point. He hurriedly put away his bow and gripped his sword, his body strung tight by the electric tension that accompanied combat. Sweat coated him. He was suddenly very aware of his entire being, from toe to finger to head; every sense seemed to be increased tenfold. The _thub-dup_ of his heart was felt throughout his entire body. It was only in times like this he felt the most alive, the most aware; Link was suddenly very conscious of how much he wanted to live. To survive.

_Them or me . . ._

A black-veined hand slapped down on the edge of the wall. A bald head followed, skull nearly visible beneath semi-transparent skin. Stubble lined his cheeks; spittle dripped from his mouth. Blood dripped like tears from his eyes.

_Fuck them._

With a cry he lopped off the man's head in a spray of black-stained crimson; the corpse convulsed and fell backward onto the pile of willing replacements below. Another hand grasped at the stone edge, jittering like a crippled tarantula before he lashed downward with his sword pommel. Bones crunched wetly--the hand disappeared.

Dimly Link heard a voice cry out, "_Rak!_" He cursed and struck at another groping hand, eyes searching for the canine creatures in the darkness. A twisting fur-covered figure hurtled out of the rabble below, soaring up and over the wall. He heard a dull _squelch _and an agonized scream; the stakes Roscin had planted were performing admirably.

_Thump._

"Link! Behind you!"

The Hylian spun around, coming face to face with another snarling Rak. Its deadly hooks flashed over its head, then plummeted for his skull. He had no time to block; instead he lowered his shoulder and lunged forward, ramming into its furry midsection and sending it staggering back, flailing for balance. The hooks' jagged edges grated off of the shield on his back, the brute force behind the attack distilled by his body blow. He straightened sharply, using his vertical momentum to drive his elbow into the creature's chin; its head whipped up and back, baring its throat. Link's blade flashed in the moonlight, goring it through the neck before he twisted his body to the side, simultaneously pulling his sword free and driving his fist into the Rak's chest. It fell backwards with a gurgle, tripping over the edge and landing on the stakes below.

He spun back to the attacking army in time to see another man lunge forward, a sickle in his fist and murder in his eyes. Link twirled his sword swiftly, lopping off the descending hand; still clutching the sickle, it bounced off of his shoulder with surprising force. Blood flecked the side of his head and neck; his sword tore through the man's torso vertically, pouring his innards forth with a fetid stench. He bit back a gag and kicked the corpse over the wall, feeling still-pulsating organs squirm under his feet. _Dear Goddesses . . ._

Three more men leaped over the wall, eyes gleaming with madness. Another clambered over the edge and shoved one aside, roaring wordlessly. Then yet another climbed up with a snarl.

Even as he desperately thought _There's too many, too fast!_ he darted forward, sword raised.

One made as though to attack; he swatted aside the raised sword and viciously punched it across the face, employing the strength of his Golden Gauntlets. Its skull shattered, face crumpling inward and squirting red. The corpse whipped backward, knocking one of its brethren off of the edge. Link ducked a slash at his throat and struck at the attacker's midsection, meaning to disembowel him; the man hopped backwards, leaving Link nothing to cut but the man's ragged shirt. Before he could straighten another attacker kicked savagely at his head. He surprised himself by snatching the offending foot mid-kick, then surging to his feet and shoving it into towards the sky--hard. The man flipped backward with a squawk and landed awkwardly on his head and shoulders, leaving him stunned.

Link had no time to finish the downed man, instead parrying another sword blow intent on rending him open from shoulder to opposite hip. Sparks flashed as the enemy's sword slid along Link's own, diverted just enough to pass a hair's breadth from his shoulder. He responded with a backhand swipe across the chest; blood jetted from the mortal wound.

He twisted away from the dying man and struck at yet another attacker. Unarmed, the man ducked Link's sword and lunged forward, driving both fists straight forward from the shoulder and into his would-be victim's abdomen. He staggered back, feeling his breath tear from his throat in a harsh burst, and buried the edge of his sword in the man's skull. To his left he observed a trio of attackers heatedly exchanging blows with Ren and Alva, their backs to him. _Big mistake._

Crying out in effort, he spun once, holding his sword at chest height. All three men crumpled to the ground, spines severed, leaving the two Rass looking at them quizzically. He smiled tightly as they nodded their appreciation; the two were as blood-spattered as he. "We can't keep this up forever!" he yelled. "They're gonna take the wall!"

"Maybe," Ren replied, "but if they do they'll have to get down--if we pull the ladders off, any that try to jump down'll be as good as--" he ducked as an arrow whizzed past his head "--as good as dead!"

He barked a mirthless laugh, remembering the deadly stakes. "The Hylians, maybe, but the Rak'll be able to jump over them!"

The Rass shrugged; there was no answer beyond further bloodshed.

With a cry they returned to the fight.

--

Soren sprang backward, easily evading another blow, and lunged forward to slash his attacker across the chest. The Rak stubbornly refused to fall, though it swayed on its feet as blood poured down its front. Before the creature could recover he quickly swung his sword with surgical precision, cutting its throat. It collapsed in a gore-streaked heap.

Taking advantage of the brief respite, he surveyed the battleground.

Around him roiled a macabre melee; though Reval Keshan held the advantage of numbers, its possessed Hylians were at a severe disadvantage as they climbed over the wall, mitigated by the Rak's savage strength and agility. Blood covered the stone walkway as corpses collapsed left and right; the screams of the wounded and dying split the night. He was dimly aware that a slight distance to his left fought the shadow, Dark Link, and beyond that his lighter copy and the last Rassen couple. To his right Roscin fought alongside his men; he could not see beyond him, however, as his vision was obscured by the thrashing hordes.

Even as he steadily fought and killed the invading forces he allowed his mind to drift over the scale of the battle as a whole. Before he had tried to infiltrate the town he had been sure to thoroughly study the potential strengths and weaknesses of its fortifications; he had been satisfied with what he observed. The only real weakness that Reval Keshan could exploit were the relatively low walls and the gates--while the first had been somewhat addressed by the sharpened stakes, if only temporarily, in the event of the gates' destruction and if the enemy managed to spread through the town any hopes of victory were all but squandered in the face of such numerical superiority.

For reasons he could not discern no massive beast had yet been created to smash through their defences; either Reval Keshan was exceedingly arrogant and was not bothering to, or it had some other sort of trick planned. For everyone's sake the Blackguard hoped for the former and planned for the latter. If any Rak managed to slip past he swore to himself to cut it down before it could manage to open the gates; thus he had placed himself within a stone's throw of the town's greatest weakness, examining it whenever he could to ensure none had.

The battle intensified over the next hour. Evidently Reval Keshan had no intention of holding Kakariko under siege, instead electing to try and crush it immediately; thus the flow of enemies did not cease, nor would cease, if they continued at this pace, for quite a while. Soren did not tire, instead falling into a steady rhythm--evade, strike, parry, strike, attack, counterattack. Though the combat was extremely demanding--all violence was--he did not fall victim to fatigue; his natural physiology coupled with the intense training he had undergone had hardened him. He was not at his peak after his long ordeal in the plains, but he was far from weak.

After a time the moment he had predicted came. Several large Rak--five? seven? ten? they moved too quickly to tell--leaped from atop the wall, landing several yards clear of the deadly stakes. As they turned to attend to the gates another three mirrored their entry; more would inevitably follow, punching through a faltering segment of Hylian defenders and clearing the melee atop the wall to raise hell within the town itself.

The Blackguard rapidly finished his opponent, then turned and _jumped_, soaring ten feet upward and twenty forward; he landed in a crouch several feet clear of the stakes, breathing evenly. He noticed with some satisfaction that many Knights rushed from the buildings around him to attack the attackers; however, the relatively tight spacing between stakes ensured that only ten or fifteen could actively engage the Rak at a time. Any more would only impede each other and lead to otherwise avoidable injuries.

As he sprinted toward the clashing forces he felt the pouch nestled into the small of his back beneath his robe stir as Teik shifted restlessly, malcontent to remain in hiding while his partner was in such danger; still, there was nothing the Scarog could do against foes so large and in such great numbers.

Within moments he carefully threaded through the miniature forest of stakes, forcing himself to slow down. If he were to trip or stumble he could gore himself on their deadly tips; this would make this encounter difficult.

Two thirds of the Rak--seven, at the least--had formed a semicircle around the gate, protecting their comrades from the Knights' assault while they worked at destroying or at least unbarring the gates from the inside. Ten Knights worked at penetrating their startlingly efficient defense while dozens more stood back, unable to fight because of the stakes; their own fortifications had created a veritable bottleneck, allowing a small number of Rak to hold off the vastly larger group of Knights. It could not protect them from archers, however, as a steady stream of arrows laid waste to the innermost creatures that worked at the gates themselves; they did not dare aim at the other defending Rak, as they had as much of a chance of hitting a Knight as one of their enemies.

He arrived to the fray in time to see a Hylian topple backwards, clutching at his entrails. Soren stepped past the mortally wounded soldier and closed with the Rak that stood in his place. He allowed the blood-drenched creature to make the first move; it forfeited him the advantage of surprise and a quick, deadly blow to finish the fight before it could begin, but it also allowed him to harness the creature's tenacity and bloodlust to his own advantage. The Rak roared, lifted both hooks above its head, and hacked downwards mightily--too mightily. Soren held his sword diagonally above his head, its tip lower than the hilt. Both hooks screeched across the specially forged Rassen steel and passed harmlessly to his side, pulling their wielder forward as the sheer force behind the blow tugged the furry creature off balance. His blade darted forward twice, quickly, efficiently. The Rak howled and crumpled to the ground, a crimson _x_ across its chest spilling blood to pool in the dirt.

He pressed forward, but only proceeded three paces before another creature took the place of the one he had killed with an angry snarl. Nonplussed, Soren feinted for its throat and instead slashed horizontally at its lower thighs. Although his opponent flinched away from his feint, it reacted swiftly to remedy its error, meeting his sword with one of its hooks and swinging at his skull with the other. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the hook's jagged edge, and responded with a harsh kick; the edge of his boot glanced off of its exposed ribs, sending it staggering back with a grating cry of pain. Sensing the advantage, he lunged and stabbed at its heart. Though the Rak managed to parry his attack it did not escaped unscathed, as his blade bit deeply into shoulder instead of breast, shearing through tendons and ligaments and rendering its arm useless. As it howled in agony he liberated its entrails from the prison of its abdomen, gutting it from hip to hip.

The soon-to-be corpse collapsed, admitting him to a small glance around his surroundings. Only four Rak had been felled, including the two he had just killed, while ten Hylians lay dead. His eyes narrowed in anger at the sight. Furthermore, one of the diagonal beams braced against the gates had been removed with great effort, though the second stood firmly; a Rak also chopped at the two others barring the gate, as someone had wisely nailed them into the door itself upon the sighting of their opposition. He was contrastingly impressed with and dismayed at the Hylian fortifications and the enemy's tenacious progress, respectively.

Soren returned to himself in time to parry and couterattack yet another Rak, who soon thrashed, headless, in the dirt. He--they--had no time. If they proceeded at this pace the gates would be compromised and the town subsequently lost. He had to do _something _to distract the Rak from their demolition.

The new hole in their semicircle was before him; to exploit it would expose his flanks and allow the enemy to easily surround him. Though rendering himself vulnerable as such clashed against nearly every combative instinct ingrained in the fiber of his being, he had no choice--he had to keep the gates from being opened.

He ran forward, moving as swiftly as he dared amidst the dangerous stakes that surrounded him. The semicircle of Rak failed to notice him, as embroiled as they were with his allies; as such he was a mere few yards away from the gates when he was observed by those behind him. At the distinctive rattle of a length of chain he dropped into a roll, not slowing as a jagged hook swept overhead, thrown from behind him. He was surrounded; speed was key.

Five Rak worked at the gates' demise, three working to unroot or destroy the diagonal beam while two hacked at the two horizontal beams nailed directly into the door itself. This lent him the advantage of surprise, coupled with agility, as the gates themselves lay in a small clearing of stakes to better accommodate their workers, perhaps five yards square. So intent were the hairy creatures on their work that they did not notice his approach.

The first to fall was tugging futilely at the diagonal beam's base; it fell headless with only a meaty _chung_and a gouting spray of blood to signal its demise. Its two companions roared a warning to their comrades and sprang away, gripping their hook blades and regarding him with feral, intelligent eyes; surprise was lost.

They did not immediately attack, instead spreading out with the intent of surrounding him, then tearing into his flesh from all angles; this would not be tolerable. He lunged forward, slashing at the central Rak's throat--it ducked and retaliated, trying to impale him on the tips of its hooks. Rather than try and block the hooks or try and dash clear of their range he planted his feet and flipped over the the creature's head, landing easily at the Rak's back; a sharp blow to the back of its neck with his sword pommel shattered its vertebrae, leaving it to drop limply into the dirt. Soren danced backward, his back now to the gates. For now, at least, he had stopped their tampering.

Yet as the three remaining Rak turned on him, snarling, he momentarily regretted his choice--at what cost would this distraction come? He shook his head. _Do not think of it that way. You haven't fallen yet._

The lead beast raised its weapons and charged, its comrades following. Soren tensed--he was cornered--

The first Rak gurgled, marveling at the wooden shaft that protruded from its throat. It tripped over its own feet in its panic and thrashed on the ground, clutching at the lethal wound as blood pooled around its quivering form. The others hesitated momentarily, glancing at their fallen leader, then behind them, at a certain redhead atop the adjacent building.

It was their undoing. He raised his sword overhead and grunted lowly as it descended with deadly force; the blade nearly split one Rak in two from forehead to groin. Hot blood doused his front. Soren turned to the other creature and stabbed it through the gut, burying his sword to the hilt with the sheer force of his strike. Surprise and pain flashed in the Rak's gleaming eyes as it gasped, dropping its weapons. He began to pull his sword free--but was stopped as both gnarled hands grasped his forearm, sharp claws punching through cloth and skin alike. Its head swung forward, formidable jaws craning open and displaying a ghastly rictus of needlelike fangs.

He jerked backward, anchored to the creature by his arm, and snatched it by the throat with his free hand; its deadly teeth snapped shut inches from his face with a _clack_. The Rak's eyes bulged comically, realizing it was helpless; one arm released his own and cocked back, claws already dripping with his dark blood.

To hesitate meant death. Calling on his immense strength--and battling three solid days of ceaseless travel--Soren lunged to his left, dragging the Rak along with him, then lifted the creature bodily off the ground by the throat and his sword, still planted deep within its abdomen. He twisted, using his momentum and sheer strength to swing the Rak headfirst around him--and directly into the town wall's sheer stone face.

Its skull detonated, sending strips of gore and bone fragments flying amidst a miniature explosion of blood; such was the force of Soren's blow that its spine snapped in three seperate places. The corpse shuddered once and dropped limply to the dirt, sliding wetly off of his sword.

The Blackguard allowed himself a brief moment of rest, waving his mute thanks to Malon for her archery. Within seconds he ran towards the failing semicircle, sword ready by his side; the gates may be secure--for now, at least--but there were other objectives that begged completion.

--

And so the battle for Kakariko raged on.

For every beast that was struck down two leaped into its place; inversely, the Hylian forces were not as plentiful. After another two hours of bloodshed both forces had been thinned considerably; though Reval Keshan held numerical superiority, its forces were cut down in greater numbers, vulnerable as they were clambering over the wall. The night air rang with the macabre clatter of battle--the clashing of steel melded inextricably with the horrible screaming of fallen men. Death swept over the normally peaceful soil as it not had for decades.

The gates held--barely. Though no massive juggernaut had made its appearance thus far, the attackers had not neglected this most gaping of weaknesses, as Soren had experienced firsthand. Many fell both assaulting and defending the coveted portal.

Link grimaced. This was not going well; they had been pushed back off of the wall, though the enemy had no ready way to readily descend to the ground, as all ladders and other means of descent had been removed or destroyed. The possessed Hylians could not jump the stakes, though that did not stop them from trying. The deadly obstacles were soon covered in blood and impaled corpses. The Rak, however, were not so handicapped; Link found himself felling wave after wave of the wolfen menaces alongside the Knights and his assorted companions. The open ground was both an inhibitor and boon to both forces, as it enabled easier movement and greater freedom to both sides, while it slightly negated some of the defenders' advantages, as they could not cut down the Rak as easily as they had before in such an open area; the furred attackers were not as vulnerable as they were when they ascended the wall.

He gritted his teeth and cut open yet another attacker. "How many more?" he cried out to Zelda, who fought nearby despite his discomfort with her presence on the front lines.

"I don't know," she yelled over the raging din. "I think they've lost half their forces, but I'm not sure."

Link caught another deadly hook on his shield and shoved the offending Rak off balance. "Fuck," he spat, decapitating the creature before him. "I think we've lost about a third of ours."

"Doesn't that--" she parried a hook and slashed quickly at the Rak assaulting her, the long dagger in her hands only a glittering, deadly blur. "--make us about even?"

"Maybe. I don't know." Blood jetted from mortal wounds; another Rak crumpled to the ground like a marionette with cut strings.

_**Hey, Pinko, Karsof wants you to move with Soren, Kain, Zelda, and twenty men to check our flanks. You'll go left from the gate, me and the rest will go the other way. Fifteen men and the two other guys are waiting for you just beyond the edge of the big melee, along the wall and to your left.**_

_Tell him that that'll leave our front open--_

_**He said the Knights can hold for a little bit. We're looking for something more subtle, I guess.**_

Link sighed. _Fine. Tell him I'm going; Zelda's with me._

_**If something kills you, let me know. I'll want to shake its hand.**_

_Yeah, fuck you too._

The Hylian conveyed the General's tactics to the Queen beside him. She frowned but nodded, trusting Karsof's greater experience. They began to make their way through the tumultuous battleground as quickly as they could, threading through friend and foe alike.

After what seemed to be a violent eternity of five minutes' duration they drew up to where Kain and the others stood, cutting down the Rak that dared to try and jump down in their midst to flank the defenders. "Link, Zelda. Are you well?"

The two nodded determinedly as the entire group disengaged from the larger conflict and began to head along the wall's interior at a brisk jog, wary of any overly ambitious Rak. To their surprise, only Reval Keshan's Hylians were trying to scale the wall elsewhere; their efforts were futile thus far, as the carpet of impaled corpses attested. "They're focusing on the gate, because only the Rak can jump over and fight there, right?" Zelda queried.

Kain replied, "So we think. Still, this has gone too simply; underestimating its tactics as sheer arrogance could prove fatal if we are incorrect. So we must check the perimeter, where our defences are thinnest."

Link grunted his affirmation. "Distract us on one side, then stab us in the back. Oldest trick around."

"That doesn't mean it isn't effective."

He frowned. "What're the chances of them breaking and running if we get the advantage?"

"It depends on how important it judges this territory and my Rassen companions and I. It has launched suicide missions before; even if it sustains massive losses Reval Keshan's sheer one-mindedness will provoke it onward until it has completed its goal."

"Shit," he cursed. "So we're pretty much gonna have to kill them all?"

The Rass nodded. "In essence."

They had only been absent from the gate for four minutes when Link flinched, skull echoing with his twin's cry, _**Fuck the perimeter! The gates've been smashed down. We lost. Get the hell over here, we need help--we're pulling back to the mountain!**_

----

_Oh, Goddesses, no._

Link's stomach flipped as he stared at the splintered remains of the gates; a vicious mass of possessed Hylians and Rak swarmed through the entrance to Kakariko, howling with victorious rage--they knew that the town was all but theirs. The defenders had lost every advantage, all but crushed beneath the sheer might of the enemies' numbers. They fled, retreating backwards to the eastern exit to Death Mountain, fighting off their pursuers even as they seeked escape. Dark Link had been correct. They had lost.

_Not yet. If we get everyone to the Gorons we can attack later with their help, take back the village._ He swallowed, heart pounding as he sprinted with the rest toward the main battleground just inside the gates. Link had no intention of leaving without a fight.

A hand grasped his shoulder, holding him back in a viselike grip. "Link!"

He whirled around, teeth grinding tightly in frustration, to see Kain. "What? I need to help--"

"You can't that way," he urgently replied. A fleck of blood on one cheek and a stray strand of hair were all that spoke of the battle's intensity. "We have to leave for aid, go to the Zoras while the Gorons and the army holds them off on the mountain."

Link's eyes bulged in anger as he growled, "I will _not_ abandon these people--run away from the fight--"

The Rass's hand tightened on his shoulder. "I dislike it as much as you, but it is the only way to save their lives. I just received word from Alexis, through whom I have been talking to Karsof. Almost a thousand more troops just joined Reval Keshan's forces from the southwest." The Hylian felt his legs go weak; a bloom of fear smarted in his heart. _A thousand?!_"We have no choice. An army of that magnitude could destroy even the Gorons, given enough time. We need more allies, support, none of which we would be able to acquire while penned with the rest within the mountain."

"I--"

"There is no time, Link! Our horses are at the tavern, where the others are headed as well." He began to pull him along, realizing that their companions had been lost in the crowd.

"_Fuck!_" Link ripped Kain's hand from his shoulder and began to run alongside him. "This is _wrong._"

"This is survival, Link, as a people and as a world. Hurry, we don't have much time."

-----

Soren shoved his way through the thrashing crowd, thankful that he had moved past the bulk of Keshan's forces; a stalwart few held a tough, if failing, line of defence against the creatures. Still he was aware that the last defenders would soon be overrun, letting the Rak and the rest run rampant, slaughtering whomever they encountered. _The tavern. Kain and the others would not leave their horses for extra food for Reval Keshan._

After a moment a thought struck him, locking him in place. _The redhead. Malon. She would not have been at the meeting if she was not important. _He whirled around to scrutinize the rooftop of the house she had been embanked earlier; he could see her vibrant red hair bobbing as she scrambled backward, slipping on the gritty tiles, trying to retrieve another arrow from her quiver as a Rak landed on the roof only feet away.

He made his decision in a heartbeat, lowering his shoulder and bulling his way to the edge of the road. She did not have much time.

Malon frantically scrabbled backward with her feet as she clawed at her quiver, staring as the Rak before her lunged and disemboweled an archer only feet away from where she had fallen on her back. Through clenched teeth she mindlessly hissed "Oh shit oh shit oh shit _oh shit!_"

Her fingers finally closed on the fletched shaft of an arrow. Sending a quick, thankful prayer to the heavens, she set it to the string and drew her arm back, taking quick aim at the advancing creature only two yards away. It lunged, roaring, even as she let the string loose with a _twang_; the Rak's howl cut off in a sudden, pained _urk_as the point disappeared down its throat, only to reemerge out the back of its skull in a spray of blood. The furred monstrosity recoiled backwards, arms flailing futilely, and toppled over the edge of the roof into the fray below.

The redhead quickly shoved her way to her feet, not entirely believing she was still alive, and felt for her quiver to count out her remaining arrows. _Five left. Still, it's time to get the hell out of here. Where's the tav--_

Two Rak landed on the roof a bare few feet from where she stood, cutting off her thoughts yet again. Malon cursed and flinched back, simultaneously shoving her bow into the modified quiver and snatching at the hilt of her sword. Even thus armed she knew that she had no chance against these killers; she had no delusions regarding her skills--or lack thereof--with the sword. Some far-off, detached corner of her mind gasped, _Note to self: try to spar with Link more often._

The two creatures lifted their lips in a snarling grin, knowing they had the advantage. One stepped forward menacingly.

_Okay, fuck this._

She spun around and sprinted to the edge of the roof, hoping against hope to escape the Raks' fearsome agility, and jumped with a defiant shout of effort. A six foot gap separated the house she had stood atop from the next one down the road; she barely spanned the jump, landing hard on the balls of her feet and nearly toppling over. Sucking air, she fought to regain her balance and kept running even as she thought desperately _There's no way I can outrun them--remember what they did to the carriage, and the wall?!_

Arms pumping, feet pounding against the uneven shingles beneath, she ran the length of the house, following the stream of soldiers toward the escape to Death Mountain. _I've got this, I've got this, I'll be fine--fuck it, I'm screwed! No! Keep going!_

She was already in the air towards the next house when the Rak landed with a heavy _thud _on the roof before her--directly where she was going to land. Malon's eyes bulged at the same moment the Rak's did as they both realized they were about to collide; it began to raise its hooks in defense as she instinctively bellowed and chopped down with her sword.

The two crashed into each other, falling to the roof with Malon atop the Rak. Wet heat splashed against her front. Bruised and winded, she recoiled backward, teeth bared, mentally preparing herself for the cold sting of its hooks.

Nothing.

Realizing she had shut her eyes in her panic, she tentatively forced her eyelids apart. With a gasp she realized that the Rak was dead; she had split open its skull with her blind, panicked strike. She winced in disgust, realizing that its blood coated her chest, and wrenched her sword free.

_Thud._

She looked up, shocked, to behold the second Rak snarling beside her. _Oh, shit! _Malon hurled herself to the side, feeling a cold breath of air as its deadly hooks tore through the air where her throat had been. Landing heavily on her side, she thrust her sword upward in a futile act of self-preservation. The creature snarled and raised its hooks above its head.

Soren leaped from the building the farmgirl had just fled from, sword stabbing forward, and tackled the Rak to the shingled roof. His blade pierced the creature through the chest, pinning it face-down to the roof below, while he landed in an easy crouch, boots in the small of its back. Malon stared, mouth open, as his powerful gloved hand grasped its wolfen skull by the muzzle and the back of its head and twisted abruptly; its neck snapped with a wet _crunch_. His red gaze quickly looked her up and down, searching for any wounds. "Are you okay?"

Malon stared at the Blackguard, eyes wide, and managed to gasp, "Yeah."

He nodded, straightening, and pulled his sword from the Rak's corpse. "We have to get to the tavern."

----

Link urgently rattled the tavern door knob. Turning to Kain, he shrugged and almost apologetically said, "It's locked," then kicked the door hard enough to rip it from its hinges and clatter on the floor within. Wincing at his vandalism, he thought _I_ _gotta get used to these gauntlets again_, and hurried inside. "I don't like to steal," he amended, "but we may need more money than I've got. See what he's got stashed behind the counter. I'm gonna go upstairs, see if anything's left. Can you get the horses ready?"

"Yes."

The Hylian ran for their rooms while Kain rummaged behind the counter, finally finding a small pouch that jingled merrily. He glanced inside, observing quite a number of the glittering currency used in Hyrule; he did not know the particulars of their system, but this seemed to be sufficient.

As he pocketed the small purse Ren, Alva, and Roscin bustled through the door, supporting a heavily bleeding Karsof between them. The odd threesome half-dragged the older man through the room to heave him as gently as possible onto a small cluster of tables, eliciting an agonized moan from him. "How is he?" Kain asked.

"Not good," Roscin replied, pulling a swathe of bandages from a small bag he kept for the purpose at his belt. Grimacing, he began to wrap Karsof's thigh, which had been mangled by an enemy mace; it was obviously broken and bleeding heavily.

"Are the rest of you okay?" The three nodded. "Have you seen any of the others?"

"No," Alva sighed. She clamped one of the General's arms to the table as he bucked in pain. "Alexis's looking for them, right?"

He nodded. "Link's upstairs. Ren, Roscin, you have a handle on him?" The two looked up and grunted their replies, trying to hold the man down as he occasionally thrashed in pain. "Good. Alva, come help me with the horses. We aren't following the rest to the mountain."

Though obviously confused, she followed him out the door, trusting in his judgement, as Link hurriedly rushed into the room. "Goddesses, is he okay?"

Karsof spat through clenched teeth, "How the _fuck_ does it look, boy? Bastard broke my damn leg!"

_That just killed any hope of sympathy._"Look, Roscin, you have to get him back with the others to Death Mountain, okay? We need you two to lead the resistance their while we go for support."

Soren, Malon, Dark Link, Zelda, and Impa crashed through the doorway, the last of which had to kick an overly aggressive possessed Hylian from the frame to get in. "Alexis told us what's going on," Zelda hurriedly explained. "Where're the horses?"

_She seems to like him about as much as I do, _Link sardonically mumbled to himself. "Kain and Alva're getting them ready, but we need someone to help Roscin get Karsof to the mountain and help with defense."

Impa nodded. "I'll do it."

"Malon, you're going up there, too."

She blanched, face growing red. "What?! I want to help!"

His face hardened; in this he was dead set. "You'll get yourself killed. They're gonna follow us, and they may already have some forces ahead of us. You'll be able to help out more with the Gorons, and you'll be able to train, get better."

She opened her mouth to rebuke, but snapped it shut, thinking back to her experience on the rooftops. Biting back her stubborness and her pride, she mumbled, "Yeah. You're right."

He blinked, surprised. _Jeez. Didn't see that coming._"Okay, good. Can you three get Karsof up with the rest?"

"Yeah, we'll get him up there. We'll be waiting for you guys, okay?" Malon affirmed. She and Roscin grasped Karsof under his arms, hoisting him up, while Impa apparently would stand guard. Without further ado the four left, Impa almost having to hack her way through a wall of flesh to accommodate her followers.

Once they had passed Alva stuck her head through the door and called, "Hey, come on, we've gotta go!"

-----

The odd six burst out of the stables, plowing their way as best they could across the flooded street and heading north; Zelda and Soren had each commandeered a lone horse in the stables, while Dark Link rode an odd, shadowy doppelganger of Epona he apparently could summon. Link lead, emerging on the other side of the crowded, thrashing street and galloping along a smaller abandoned crossroad toward the northern gates. "Ha," his shadow laughed, "that wasn't so hard, huh?"

"Don't celebrate just yet," Kain called out from behind them. "Something is--wait, many somethings--are breaking off from the rest and following. Fast. I think it knows what we're trying to do."

"You just _had_ to say it, didn't you?" Link yelled over the clamor of hooves and battle to his shadow.

"It isn't my f--"

"Hey," Zelda cried, "stop bickering and focus! What are those things?"

"Loden," Kain replied. "Like squat wolves, but very fast and vicious. They try to startle prey--us, essentially--by howling; if they're right next to you they've been known to blow out eardrums."

Link thought back to his encounter in the forest and cursed. _This won't be fun._

"Oh, yes it will," his shadow replied out loud.

"Look, what'd I say about staying out of my fu--"

"_Link!_ Both of you! We have more serious things at hand right now, you know," Zelda barked. "How much farther, do you think?"

"I'm not sure, but not too long."

Kain looked over his shoulder. "I count eight. No, nine. Ten. More are joining them."

"Shit," Ren spat. "We have to loose them or kill them. More will follow after they're done with Kakariko."

"Oh, joy," Link mumbled. "Hurry! We can outrun them."

The group finally skidded to a halt at the barred gates, each stealing quick glances over their shoulders to check their pursuers' progress. Link hopped off of his horse and ran to the gates' splintered wooden faces, grunting with exertion as he tried to shove the heavy beam out of its cradle barring them shut. The wood groaned but held still.

He cursed, noticing the ragged heads of a dozen large nails, each at least half a foot long, that pinned the beam to the gates and barred them shut. Pulling out a small knife, he wormed its tip beneath a nail head and tried to pry it free, only managing to gouge out a sliver of wood and make the metal circle twitch. Glancing at the pursuing Loden, he cursed again; they did not have enough time to dislodge each nail. _Screw it. If I can't take down the bar, I'll take down the whole damn thing._

Stowing his dagger, he reached into one of his larger space-warping pouches and impossibly pulled a large battle hammer from a pouch only six inches wide. Link hefted the hammer, glancing at its three-foot metal shaft and six-inch-wide, brutal head before surveying the thick wooden obstacle in their paths. If anything could get the job done, he knew it to be the Megaton Hammer.

"Here they come! Get the damn gate open!" Ren cried, leaping from his horse and readying himself to fight off a wave of Loden.

Link stepped several feet back from the gates, gauging the beam's thickness, and cocked the hammer back over one shoulder. With his face set in a concentrated grimace he ran forward, swinging mightily, and smashed the hammer's head dead in the beam's center. The gates leaped back from the sheer force of the blow with a distressed groan of strained wood, shaking in and out on loosened hinges; the beam itself cracked and flexed down the middle but otherwise stood firm. The jarring impact racked through Link's entire upper torso, making his arms tingle and his palms go numb. He grunted and stepped back again, heaving the hammer back for another strike.

Eyes set on the depressed crescent he had crushed into being on the splintered beam, he lunged forward again, putting all the force his weary body could muster into his swing.

A tremendous ripping crash of breaking wood heralded the bar's timely demise as it split down the middle amid a burst of splinters. The gates flew open, hanging on half-sheared hinges.

"There," he sighed tiredly, "it's open."

"_Watch out!_"

Link spun around, swinging horizontally at chest height. The broad head of the Megaton Hammer caught a pouncing Loden in the ribs, shattering its rib cage, snapping its spine and sending it flying into the wall. It collapsed with a whimper in a bloody heap.

His six companions were fighting off at least triple their number of Loden, apparently with more on the way. "Let's go!" he yelled urgently.

_**Finally! Took your sweet time, didn'tcha?**_

_Shut up and go._

As he looked on Kain caught one unfortunate Loden by the throat mid-pounce, throwing it to the ground on its back and stomping on its skull, crushing it as easily as an eggshell. Link winced and repeated his call, gratefully observing the five begin to disengage from their respective opponents and mount their horses once again. Scrambling back atop Epona, he ensured that he was the last one out the gates, then repeated his trick with the bombs, dropping them as he sped off.

They emerged into the rolling, dry-grassed foothills of the mountain above and turned sharply to the southeast, riding as quickly as they dared. A trio of sharp _crump_s and a chorus of agonized howling rolled after them, beating ineffectively at their backs.

Link quickly sorted through the local geography mentally, trying to judge their best chance at escape. Kakariko's corpse loomed behind them to their west, while the rocky foothills of Death Mountain and the uncharted range beyond its peak blocked off the northern and eastern horizons; eventually the rocks would part in a narrow valley carved by the river that still flowed within its fertile banks, named for the Zora who lived at its source further within the valley. That was to be their destination. _If we arc to the east, put some space between us and the army attacking Kakariko, we may be able to pass unnoticed._ Straining to be heard over the pounding of hooves, he called out his idea to the others; within moments they all began to angle to the east.

He stole a quick glance over his shoulder. Kakariko seemed to have deflated in the black night; rather than proudly standing out against the intimidating hulk of the mountain, it seemed to be cowering to the ground, as though futilely trying to escape some terrible blow. The dark mass of Reval Keshan's forces spilled around the far edge, now tearing through both the west and south gates, while Link could just barely see the rippling tides of Hylians fleeing up Death Mountain's inhospitable slopes like ants up a massive anthill. Guilt and resentment burned within his heart; running away from a fight--abandoning fellow beings to their foe, to almost certain death--ground against the grain of his character. A dull ache actually throbbed within him, a manifestation of this cruel violation of spirit.

_No. There has to be a way to help, dammit!_

With a grimace of concentration he frantically searched for an idea--some way to at least partially assist those they were leaving behind. After several minutes he brightened and stiffened in the saddle. _Divide and conquer!_

"Wait! Stop!" Link hauled back on the reins, skidding to a halt. The others, confused and frustrated, slowed and wheeled their horses around, stopping before him.

"I told you--there is no choice!" Kain insisted. "Dying in battle won't help anyone."

"Hold on," he exclaimed breathlessly, "you guys have a vendetta with that thing, don't you? And vice versa?"

The Rass quickly replied, "Yes, what of it? We know it's strategies, we've hurt it, and we've frustrated it. It hates us."

"And you're tactically important, right? And all that stuff?" A nod. "So if we show ourselves it'll really, _really _wanna kill us, right?"

Understanding blossomed across the group. "You want to draw some of them off. Distract them."

Link nodded quickly. "If we can even get a few to follow us I can lead them straight into a deathtrap."

"A deathtrap?"

"Kokiri forest. There's a reason everyone avoids it; if the forest's guardian doesn't let you pass the less friendly occupants'll tear you to shreds in less than a day."

"Goddesses, Link, that's a good two days from here--at least!" Zelda interjected heatedly.

He shrugged, eyes fierce. "There's a way to loop through the forest and get to the Zoras. We can take it--takes a bit longer than normal, but it'll take out whoever follows us and keep the Zoras' location from them."

Ren broke out in a dark smile. "Fuck yeah! Let's hurt these bastards." Alva nodded beside him.

"You realize, Link," Kain warned, "that we could have a quarter of that thing following behind us. If we're caught we can't fend off five hundred troops."

"No risk, no reward," he replied tersely. "It'll buy the rest of Kakariko some time, at least."

The massive Rass deliberated solemnly; they all knew that he was Keshan's prime target out of all of them. It was he who would make or break their plot.

Solemnly he turned his mare to the west--to Kakariko. "Let's go."

-------

Link truly hated this choice four hours later.

_You just _had _to do something, didn't you, dumbshit!_

He ducked as another arrow whizzed past his ear just close enough for him to feel its cool gust of air; apparently Reval Keshan had confiscated the abandoned Hylian supplies.

_**See?! This is what you get for trying to help other people. Stick with yourself and you're good to go!**_

_Shut up, dammit! I didn't think that a third of their fucking army would go for us!_

_**A third? Look behind you, Mr. Hero. That's, like, eight, nine hundred ugly assholes behind us. I'd say more like half. Actually, I think that's even more than originally attacked Kak--**_

_I get it, I get it! _He dug his heels into Epona's sides, goading her to greater speed. Already the wind whipped his hair and cap into a frenzy and stung at his eyes. Four hours had passed since they had fled Kakariko; four long, long hours of ceaseless riding and evasion from the horde, whose newly formed cavalry--fifty strong--were only fifty yards behind them. The massive conglomerate's infantry had managed to remain in sight, perhaps a mile back, sprinting without any signs of fatigue even as the morning sun began to rise from the east.

_**Ya gotta give 'em credit, they're smart little bastards, taking those horses. I thought they were all just walking meatsacks with bad attitudes.**_

_They didn't "take" the horses; Ren said they can form almost anything they want out of the, uh, absorbed flesh, or something. They _made _the damn brutes. Weren't you paying attention when they were explaining all that stuff?_

_**Not really. I was doing more important things.**_

_Really? _He shook his head and snorted, glancing ahead. They hadn't yet encountered Zora's River, which would indicate their painful ride was at least mostly complete. _Like what, exactly?_

_**Enjoying Zelda's tight little Sheikah jumpsuit thingie. Can't hide much there, huh? Especially on such a cold day, ha, if you catch my drift--**_

_Yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it--_

_**--Of course, by that I meant that I could see her nip--**_

_I said I _get it_, I don't want to hear how you're ogling my--_He cut himself off mid-thought.

_**Your what?**_

_Nothing. I just don't like you ogling her. She's my friend._

_**Friend? Bah! She's your girlfriend, your woman, your--**_

_Bullshit!_

_**--Your lover, your li'l lady, your hoochie-pie, your sugar baby, your--**_

_Dammit, shut the fuck up--she's not my girlfriend--we have more important things to be thinking about!_

_**--Your future wife, your future **_**ex**_**-wife--oh, move right, by the way--your--**_

Link hauled the reins to his right, gritting his teeth as yet another arrow tore the loose edge of his sleeve. _Shut the fuck up and watch my back!_

Forcing himself to ignore Dark Link's neverending stream of taunts and insinuations, he focused on the more pertinent tasks at hand. Thankfully the sun had forced the aggravating shadow to merge with that of Link and his horse; he was not sure if he would have been able to resist pummeling his darker twin.

"How much further?" Ren barked from a few yards ahead and to the left of Link's position. "The horses can't take much more, I think! We haven't stopped galloping in two hours, at least."

"They'll have to," he replied, " 'cuz we've got a ways to go. Once we cross the river we'll be close to the forest."

"Shit."

"Yeah, pretty much."

_**I don't want to hear such horrible fuckin' language in my presence!**_

_Gee, I've _never_ heard that one before. If you're gonna be aggravating, at least be original. _

"I hope you're right, Link," Kain called out from a dozen feet ahead. "I can see the river, with what looks like a wooden bridge directly ahead."

"Great! Not much further, then." _I hope. I haven't been around here for a few years, after all . . ._

_**How's she in the sack? She'd probably bend your wimpy ass into a knot--**_

_Shut up about her!_

_--__**And go all dominatrix on ya, you li'l submissive boytoy, you!**_

_Now is _not _the time to talk 'bout this!_He grunted in pain as an arrow punched into his sheild, leaving the metal intact but the flesh below sore. He twisted in the saddle, checking on their pursuers; they were only twenty yards behind. _They'll be able to riddle us with holes before we can get out of here!_

Glancing forward, he caught Soren's oddly shrouded gaze; his hood was up, as was his headwrap. Nothing of his face nor eyes could be seen. Still, the Blackguard nodded distinctly at him and turned, shouting something unintelligible to Kain--notifying him of their problem, in all likeliness--before hauling back violently on the reins. As Link stared in surprise he dropped sharply backward, falling in amongst their equestrian pursuers only twenty yards to their rear.

_Is he insane?!_

------

_Surprise is a weapon._

Soren had learned long ago that oftentimes doing the exact opposite of what the enemy anticipated--logic be damned--was the best course of survival. This guided him now; he was all too aware that trying to outrun Reval Keshan's newly made cavalry was not viable, as they were all too easy of targets to be picked off by their horseback archers. That left close combat. _If I can down one or two of them, they are so closely packed together that many more will fall. The fools should know better than to ride so close together in such great numbers._

Adrenaline pounding through his veins, he jerked the reins back, quickly slowing his horse. Within three seconds he had dropped away from the rest of the group and merged with the leading horsemen in pursuit, drawing into a small niche between two cavalry fighters and quickly assessing their threat. The riders themselves were fairly nondescript possessed Hylians, red-eyed and bloodied by battle, wielding chipped swords and long-suffering bows and quivers. Their mounts, however, were slightly more unusual; thin and stringy muscled, their bones were barely draped in flesh and stood out in sharp relief below the dark, hairless grey-black of their skin. Any sympathy he may have harbored for the animals disappeared when he observed their red eyes, glowing with dumb hatred; these were not captured horses but newly-sprouted beasts spawned from Reval Keshan's flesh. Only a yard or so separated the riders, foolishly, though they operated with the apparent hive mind inherent to their progenitor.

_Speed is a weapon; hit fast, hard, then move before they can hope to retaliate. They cannot strike what is not there._

Wedging himself between two of the leading equestrians, he drew his sword; personally he preferred the twin daggers secreted on his forearms, but using them here would be counterproductive due to their short reach. Finally drawing neck and neck with their two horses, he glanced to his right, quickly noting the glassy look of surprise on the near-corpse's face. As its drawn bow began to swing away from its prey ahead and toward him--intolerable--he swung horizontally, aiming to decapitate. Luck was on the dead Hylian's side as both horse and rider flinched away, escaping a fast beheading but not evading injury altogether. Soren's sword easily chopped through the thin bow in its arms, rendering it impotent, and continued to cut deeply into the possessed man's shoulder, passing easily through flesh and bone alike.

As the archer and his ride shied further to the right, ruined bow and useless arm flopping as though dead, the Blackguard diverted his focus to the left; slowed by its shock, the other archer was only now drawing a bead on Soren's chest as its ride began to draw away. _Hive mind; they all can think and move as one. They will try and set a trap or keep their distance and pick us off one by one. If one goes down, however, the others will trip . . ._

Holding his position in the saddle tightly with his knees, he lunged left, careful not to lose his balance, and ripped the taut bow from the possessed corpse's hands. The arrow zipped harmlessly over his shoulder as the tension was released, the wood's vibrations stinging his palm. Holding it near one tip, Soren hooked the bow over its former owner's head and wrenched sharply to the right, jerking the archer off balance to flail, halfway in and halfway off of the saddle, in the growing space between the two horses. A sharp downward strike from his sword pommel expedited the corpse's painful descent; within seconds it was trampled beneath its comrades.

_Quickly, down the horse and trip up those behind it--they will not hesitate to shoot--you have seconds--!_

Flipping his sword from his right to left hand--long training had bestowed ambidexterity upon him--he slashed with surgical precision; brackish blood splashed as his blade chopped down just behind the horse's skull, hacking through vertebrae to sever its spinal cord, utterly paralyzing it below the neck. Despite its malevolent inception and composition a flicker of guilt flitted through Soren's mind; he had always been partial to animals, as the lizard curled up in a pouch beneath his outer robe in the small of his back would attest.

Still, counteracting his guilt was the carnal satisfaction of hearing the domino-esque crashing of his pursuers. The dead horse crumpled, flopping lifelessly in the dust, tripping its close comrade--who tripped another--who tripped another, and so on, until nearly half of the cavalry was bouncing bonelessly on the ground, victims of their own hive mentality.

The entire confrontation thus far had taken only ninety-five seconds.

However, the other attackers were as enraged as soulless meat-soldiers, as he had heard Dark Link describe them, apparently could be.

The maimed archer to his right appeared at his side once more, stabbing viciously at his throat with an arrow clenched tightly in its one good hand. Lacking the time to bring his sword across his chest to parry, he twisted to the side and snatched the offending wrist, a formidable feat considering the rough bouncing of both horses, and tugged it toward him as he had with the archer's late peer. His trick would not work twice, though; the other horse drew closer to his own, to the point where his and the Hylian's knees were brushing each other with a macabre intimacy.

Undeterred, Soren lifted the struggling Hylian's arm, exposing its torso, and expertly stabbed it through the gut, angling the blade up and behind its sternum to run its heart through. A brutal twist tore the vital organ into fragmented shreds of palpitating muscle, taking back the half-life Reval Keshan had imposed on the already dead man; without a sound the corpse slumped to the right and neatly fell out of the saddle. Its mount was quick to follow; though he did not look back the Blackguard heard the sounds of more falling cavalry behind it.

Another quick, calculating glance to the terrain ahead pleasantly surprised him; only a few hundred yards away lay the river and its rather thin, crooked wooden bridge. _Perfect. A bottleneck._ Eying the flimsy structure, his spirits rose further. _It looks barely strong enough to carry us across, but if it does it will be easy to close behind us._

The rope bridge itself was a weathered, almost ancient construction, barely spanning the fifty-yard, quick-flowing Zora River below. Built only of warped, aged planks bound together with a mixture of rope and chains, it sagged between its four anchored support poles on each side of the river, its bottom only a bare foot from the chilled water below. Its narrow width looked barely capable of admitting three men standing abreast of each other.

Soren quickly wiped down his sword on the rough saddle blanket and sheathed it, leaning low over his horse's neck, and urged the already tired beast to its fastest pace yet. In a surprising show of individual and collective horsemanship the rest of his comrades had managed align themselves into a single-file column to attempt the crossing; he pulled just behind Link, last in line. His stunts with both archers had bought them precious time.

_Here we go . . . Entrusting our lives to a bridge that appears older and even worse for wear than some of the corpses we have left behind us._

The paradoxical searingly freezing pain of a wound lanced through his lower back. He straightened abruptly, gritting his teeth in pain and stifling the impulse to cry out and grasp at the arrow protruding from his flesh, but did falter.

The drumming of hooves upon wood was tremendous as the aged bridge groaned in protest; built as it was, suspended on twin cables between two pairs of anchored posts on either side of the river, it shook, flexed, and swayed alarmingly in all directions. Within seconds the first quartet of hooves slammed once again onto safe earth. _Now or never._

Only halfway across the bridge, he dug within the confines of his robes and emerged clutching one of his occupation's most useful devices. The oddly shaped contraption consisted of a squat, metal-and-barb-coated sphere affixed to a six-inch wooden handle, looking something like a squat, inefficient mace. As he drew closer to the opposite riverbank he grasped a small wire ring at the base of the handle and jerked it free; with a scratchy hiss the small fuse embedded within the handle flickered to life. _Five seconds precisely . . ._

Only one had passed before he drew up to the riverbank. As he passed through the pair of wooden supports Soren cocked his arm back and swung, hearing the reassuring splintery crunch as the barbed head sank into the rotted wood. He dug his heels into his mount's sides, urging it to greater speeds. _Wood that rotted, on a bridge already strained with passing riders--it must work--_

The entourage was a hundred and fifty yards ahead when the grenade detonated with a blinding flash and roar, converting the wooden post it was embedded in as well as its metal covering into thousands of minuscule pieces of shrapnel traveling at hundreds of miles an hour. Delayed by Soren's antics, the leading pursuer was only just passing onto the riverbank; when the smoking corpses of horse and rider slapped to the ground a dozen feet away they were lacking the entire right side of their bodies, only scorched stubs remaining of flesh and bone.

No longer suspended equally across four points, the bridge twisted violently in the direction of the destroyed support under the harsh strain of Reval Keshan's cavalry. The leading three horsemen were thrown violently into the near-freezing, astonishingly swift river along with their mounts, swept helplessly downstream like grains of sand blown before the wind. Their followers, unable to stop themselves, flew onto the bridge as well; their combined weight overwhelmed the sole surviving cable that upheld the already flimsy structure. With a sharp _crack_ the line snapped and the bridge completely collapsed, dunking the riders in the water with their peers.

Stymied, the rest of the cavalry skidded to a halt at the riverbank, enragedly staring at the backs of their fleeing quarry. They, along with the rest of their infantry, would have to search for a safer crossing before taking up the chase once more.

-----

"Holy _shit!_ What did you _do _to them?!" Ren exultantly crowed.

Once the river had sunk below the horizon they had let themselves slow to a relieved trot, not quite believing they had escaped. Soren tentatively probed at the source of the pain in his back; his fingers brushed the stiff shaft of an arrow, eliciting a pained flinch. "I took down the bridge," he calmly replied, biting back the pain from his voice. Still, he could not help but grunt in agony as he slid the wooden projectile from his flesh. His robes had partially deflected the arrow, depleting some of its momentum and shifting it to his left. It had sunk three inches into his flesh just below his ribs on the lower left section of his back; feeling hot blood begin to drip down the small of his back, he quickly and surreptitiously packed the wound with rags from his saddlebags. His position in the back of their group allowed him to work with near invisibility, as he preferred it.

"Hey, jeez, you're bleeding pretty good there--lemme take a look at it," he replied, slowing to come alongside the silent Blackguard.

"I am fine." After another moment he returned his focus to riding, determinedly ignoring the pain in his back and arm. "I was grazed. It will heal on its own time; I will check it further later." He fixed Ren with his hidden yet undeniably severe gaze; the latter inanely wondered, not for the first time, how he could see through the cloth covering his eyes.

"You sure?"

"Yes." His black robes seemed to twitch and shudder; Teik easily climbed from out of his pouch and perched safely on his shoulder.

With a look of bemused confusion on his face, Ren nodded and mumbled, "Okay, suit yourself. I guess your little lizard pal there will keep ya moving, huh?"

Though their horses were exhausted and the odd seven--eight, counting Alexis, safely ensconced within her gem--had all spent the majority of the last twenty-four hours fighting they did not stop; rather, they continued at a trot, sweeping to the east. Soon they came within sight of a green shade upon the horizon. Silently they proceeded toward the dubious protection of the massive Kokiri forest, home to creatures kind and malignant, beautiful and beastly, hospitable and fatal.

-------

Link grunted and let his legs go limp, plopping contentedly down in the soft grass. _Good to be home. Again. Even in shitty times like this._

He and the rest had penetrated into the forest's outermost perimeter a bare hour before, just as the last diffusing rays of sunlight were disappearing from the sky. Trees of all shapes and statures gently seemed to screen them from the pains of the outside world; when he had been a child he had often sprawled in the grass, just as he did now, and stared upward into the leafy embrace of the trees overhead, pretending that his clearing was the only place left in the world. Now he once more gazed upward, admiring the way the trees seemed to sway and dance in the flickering light cast by their campfire. Death could not exist here. Sadness, rage, fear--all seemed too unholy to exist in a world as prodigiously blessed as to have these ancient saints gracing Hyrule's soil.

He sighed. _If only._

Tiredly he began to unburden himself of his equipment, piling it close at hand around him and shivering in the frigid night air. The others settled much as he did around the fire's gracious light and choked warmth, bones weighed down with crushing fatigue. Alexis emerged in a flourish of magic from her diamond quarters, sitting sagely at Kain's right; Soren sat cross-legged a few yards to his left, instinctively positioned to best defend camp, fiddling with his new bandages across his back and arm. A fair distance from the fire Ren contentedly leaned cross-legged against a tree trunk, hands massaging his wife, who draped herself across his lap; Link glanced away with a crooked half-smile, leaving the two to each other. Dark Link leaned with an identical grin facing away from the flames, doing whatever twisted shadows did when tired. _**Yeah, screw you too. I **_**am**_** tired.**_

Still, a black mood fell across his mind; an endless parade of dead and mutilated corpses filed past his mind's eye, all dripping blood, all glaring mournfully into his soul. Link's smile died, face going blank as he drifted back into the shadowy mists of reflection. The tranquility he was so enjoying jarred his heart; what right did he have to sit in a bed of grass, surrounded by--he was surprised to think it--friends, warm and relatively safe while hundreds of his countrymen lay dead, desecrated, butchered at the battle he had fled?

_What makes me so much different from everyone else? Had I been born elsewhere, not raised in these woods, would I be here? Would someone else have taken up the tasks I have had I run away from "destiny?"_ He sighed, eyes glimmering with the campfire's light. _Surely, had Roscin, or Talon, or whoever been put in my place--surely they would have done the same. Anyone would have. Yet I am heralded as the "great Hero of Time" . . . The only thing that separates me from the rest of the people--from normal Hylians--is my damned "destiny." Divine intervention, perhaps. Being born in the right--no, the _wrong_ place at the wrong time. Yet it's something I can never overcome._ The three triangles softly glowing on the back of his hand proved that all too well.

_What am I but the Goddess's tool? The sword they use to their own ends? I can't decide if it is a mark of honor or of the shackles that bind me to Fate's whims._

Link started as he felt a gentle touch upon his shoulder. Torn from his thoughts, his eyes darted upward, wide and somewhat glazed from his mental forays, to behold Zelda standing next to him. Softly she asked, "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Sure," he half-mumbled, still torn between the world of his mind and of that which surrounded him. Shrouded in a surprisingly soft blanket, she gracefully lowered herself to the grass beside him, gazing tiredly into the fire. She had removed her headwrap and returned her eyes to normal, he realized. Even her impressively maintained hair spilled free of its tightly coiled bun, falling regally to her mid-back.

A comfortable silence fell over the two as the fire's cavortations enraptured their eyes.

"You didn't run, you know."

Link flinched, surprised, and turned to regard her solemn features. "It's written all over your face, you know," she continued softly. "You did everything you could. You did more than anyone could have expected or hoped for."

He lowered his eyes. "It wasn't enough. That's what matters, in the end."

"Not quite." Her voice was gentle, reassuring. "You aren't a god. You're a man. We're all only Hylian. We gave it all we could; the odds were stacked against us. Don't blame yourself for the deaths of others. Without you even more would have fallen. Perhaps all of them."

Shaking his head, he replied, "I abandoned them when they needed me most."

"Sometimes you have to give some things up for the greater good, Link. You know that better than--"

"They aren't just _things_, Zelda," he cut her off sharply. "They are _people._ _Friends._ Not some commodity, some _asset._"

She recoiled slightly but persisted, "I know that. And so are all the other people throughout Hyrule." She sighed. "I hate fleeing as much as you. They are _my_ people, too. _My _responsibility. But I have to think beyond Kakariko. You--we--could have stayed, done what we could to help the rest. Perhaps we would have saved a few. Perhaps a dozen. Perhaps more. But by going to the Zoras we are saving hundreds--even thousands--of lives, both by gaining aid and drawing off Reval Keshan's forces." Link shook his head slightly, resisting. "It hurts, but it has to be done. For everyone's sake."

He frowned but did not speak. With a sigh the Queen amended, "Still, what is done is done. There is no point in agonizing over the past."

Link gritted his teeth in anger--at himself, not at his companion. _I still failed them._ "I'm going to sleep," he grunted tersely. With a shiver he unrolled his bedding and slipped inside, lying on his back to gaze at the calming stars.

Zelda sighed once more. "Yeah," she mumbled to herself. "Me too."

Despite their fatigue, both tossed and turned for much of the night, both Hylians roiling in their own mental torment; he could not tear the images of the dead from his mind, while she could not tear the image of his face from hers, staring hopelessly into the flames, slowly, silently eaten from within.


End file.
